The Adventure With the Doctor and the Beast
by Sandylee007
Summary: A man waking up at a morgue and a wild beast's victim having been found in the middle of London are only just the beginning. When the 10th Doctor and Sherlock Holmes meet it's the encounter of two brilliant minds. But are their joined efforts enough to find the killer before it's too late? And what happens when someone is revealed to have a huge secret that may change everything?
1. The Morning of the Living Dead

A/N: Okay, so… I was supposed to type forward another project when this one ambushed me. Completely out of nowhere. It was scary, really! As for the final result… I'll let you decide.

WARNINGS: some violence and a bit of gore, language, adult themes… one character being revealed to have a massive secret… heh, the usual lot

DISCLAIMER: Oh, I wish…! But nope, I own nothing about these two BRILLIANT TV-shows. (sighs sadly)

Awkay… This is my first ever crossover on these shows and just my second ever 'Who' related fic so I'm insanely nervous. So, before I chicken out… Let's go! I really hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

* * *

_**The Adventure With the Doctor and the Beast**_

* * *

The Morning of the Living Dead

* * *

The wind was blowing bitterly through London while two men made their way towards the edge of Thames, a thoughtful silence surrounding them. Neither was fazed by the large group of police men already buzzing there. Nor were they overly upset to see a covered corpse nearby the river bank, although the sight definitely wasn't pleasant.

Just another day in the lives of hat detective Sherlock Holmes and his faithful blogger Dr. John Watson.

One of the Yarders already examining the grim sight began to approach quickly the second he spotted them. "About bloody time you showed up!" DI Gregory Lestrade chided. "I texted you two hours ago."

John gave the man a loudly speaking look. Apparently the doctor had had a very, very long morning. "He had to finish his latest experiment first."

Sherlock shrugged, deaf to the jab. The detective had already dressed himself to the proper gear and was gliding towards the body like he owned the crime scene. "I couldn't let the ears go to waste, now could I?"

Greg darted a questioning look towards John, a slight hint of green on his face. The former soldier shook his head, doing the finishing touches to his own crime scene investigator's outfit. "Trust me, you _don't_ want to know."

From wide, unfortunate experience Greg knew to take John's word for it.

By the time they reached the corpse Sherlock was already swirling around the nearby environment, fast on his way to noticing every possible clue the police had inevitably missed. "This one died at around two in the morning. So far we don't have any ID or suspects. There was also another body, found from Thames. Drowned", Greg revealed. "There was nothing that you would've been able to spot on that one so we sent him to Molly."

"I may want to visit him later." Sherlock cast a loudly demanding look at the corpse. The man's fingers were drumming impatiently. "Well?"

Greg sighed. "It's… not a pretty sight", the DI warned them. Then moved away to white blanket.

Sherlock gave no other indication to having been affected but an unexpected blink. John shivered, a very unpleasant taste rising to his throat while all color drained from his face. "Christ…!"

There on the river bank lay a naked tall, well built man of around John's age with shortcut brown hair and at the moment dead, wide grayish blue eyes. It was safe to say that his death wasn't fast and painless. There were far more bite marks and open wounds to be counted. Blood loss was definitely the cause of death. The kick marks on the ground suggested that he'd been fighting back hard and trying to escape but he never stood a chance.

"See?" There was a grim look on Greg's face. "I told you that this wouldn't be a pretty sight."

"No human would've been able to do this", Sherlock muttered, examining the deceased intently. "At least without the proper equipment. And the fang marks are too large for any dog breed."

"So…" John was quiet for a moment, processing. "You're saying that this was done by some… large wild animal? We don't have anything like that here in the middle of London."

"That's the mystery, isn't it?"

Right there Sherlock's keen eyes discovered something. Glowing in the faint light of a Autumn morning's lazy sun. He frowned, moving closer.

It was some sort of a metallic stick. Like a pen or a screwdriver, only bigger as well as much too bizarre and expensive looking to be either. And then, of course, there was the strange yet extremely beautiful bluish green shine.

John and Greg both leaned closer, examining the object with baffled expressions. "What the hell is that?" the DI breathed out.

"I don't know", Sherlock grumbled after a prolonged pause, the admission tasting bitter on his tongue. He frowned, turning the mystery item in his glowed hands. "But this case just became interesting."

Well, perhaps it wasn't just another day, after all.

* * *

In general Molly Hooper liked her job. Well, at least as much as it was proper for anyone to enjoy the work of a coroner. But facing the bodies was never a pleasant task. And this one had drowned. Those were always amongst the nastiest cases.

Molly took a breath, bracing herself for a gruesome sight. Then moved away the white sheet. Only to face anything but what she'd expected.

The man on her table looked nothing like someone who'd spent ages underwater. In fact he looked… very good, in far more ways than she cared to think about at the moment. Someone who'd been found early on, then. Small mercies.

Molly was about to proceed until something made her freeze entirely. Was the victim's chest moving? No, he couldn't be…!

At a astonishing speed her hand flew to the bare skin of his chest. It was still a bit warm, although he'd spent a while in Thames in a bitter October morning and afterwards quite a while on her table, waiting to be processed. The heat wasn't all she felt, though. There, underneath her hand, a heart was beating.

Molly's eyes widened while _her_ blood ran cold. "Oh my god…!" she gasped, staggering a step backwards. _This can't be happening…!_

After a few moments of pure shock she finally began to move, as though in a trance. Trembling to the core of her being she leaned closer and closer, until her head was pressed against his chest. Sure enough, there was a heartbeat, directly underneath her ear. And… Hang on a moment…

Another heartbeat underneath her hand, which was also pressed against his torso.

If such was possible Molly's eyes widened even further while she backed away once more, her own heart racing and her mind whirring a million miles per hour. What _the hell_ did she just hear? Was she going crazy or was there something seriously wrong with the corpse before her? Aside the fact that he refused to stay dead, obviously.

And then his eyes flew open, revealing two pools of vivid brown.

Molly's head was spinning so badly that it was a miracle she didn't pass out while he sat up quickly, looking around with clearly visible curiosity. "Where am I…?" he muttered to himself, his voice a bit raspy and scarcely audible. His eyes then widened with realization. "Oh…!" Slowly, slowly he looked down, taking in his state of undress. He blinked twice, very quickly. "Oh!" That, apparently, was when he finally chose to notice her. "There was a woman with me, Donna. What happened to her?"

Molly could only stare. When she finally spoke her voice was absolutely pathetic. "You… You're dead", she sputtered.

"Nope." He was about to jump off the table when he seemed to remember once more that he was naked. He didn't quite blush but there was a degree of discomfort on his face. "Could I… have my clothes back now? I'm in a bit of a hurry."

Moving in a trance again Molly fetched a plastic bag that was supposed to be evidence and handed it to him with far from steady hands. She had the time to see a bit more than she was supposed to before she finally managed to spin around to give the dead man some privacy, a radiant heat blossoming all over her face and neckline. Her heartbeat was showing no signs of calming down and she was still struggling to figure out just what was happening.

Was this all some sort of a weird dream?

"Where is it?" She'd been so absorbed by her thoughts that his voice startled her. There was a frantic look on his face while his hands fumbled animatedly, going through his clothing. "My screwdriver. Where is it?"

"I… I'm sorry", Molly managed, just barely regaining her ability to speak. "But… That was all they found you with."

Those were clearly not the desired news. The man kept searching, twirling around in a way that under different circumstances might've seemed comical and muttering constantly under his breath. Molly, finally regaining some sanity, decided to take advantage of that distraction. She backed away to what she hoped to be out of his earshot but didn't dare to leave him alone into the room. As soon as she got to a safe distance she snatched her cell-phone although her hands were barely able to hold a thing.

Thankfully Sherlock picked up relatively quickly, for once. But he didn't sound pleased. "_I'm in the middle of a case, Molly._"

"So am I", she announced weakly and swallowed hard, unable to tear her eyes away from the stranger. "I… I have something that you may want to see. Bring Lestrade along, too."

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Aaaaand, that's how we the adventure starts out.

So… What's the verdict? Was that any good at all? Extermination material? PLEASE, do let me know! I'd be overjoyed to hear from you.

Awkay. It's getting pretty late around here and I'm already dreaming of going to bed. THANK YOU, so much, for reading! Who knows, maybe I'll see you around one day…?

Take care!


	2. Of Werewolves and Aliens

A/N: Yup, it's time to continue this story! (grins) BUT, before moving on with the story…

THANK YOU, so very much, for all your reviews and listings! This is only just my second touch to 'Who' fiction so your support means more than you could ever imagine. THANK YOU! (hugs)

Okay, before I get cold feet or something… Let's go! I really hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

* * *

Of Werewolves and Aliens

* * *

Molly Hooper had had very long day. When a man comes to life on a coroner's table it tends to issue a lot of questions. She answered those Greg had the best as she could, still more than a little shaken and convinced that she was dreaming. She was offered the rest of the day off but she refused. Somehow she had an inkling feeling that she might end up being needed.

When Molly came back from fetching a much needed mug of coffee she was startled to a point where she nearly dropped the whole thing. She wasn't alone in her laboratory, after all. And to think that on most days the liveliest visitor she had was the janitor. At the moment Sherlock was there, focused intently on one of her microscopes.

Molly let a out a long, far from steady breath. It didn't calm her heart a lot. "… you scared me!…", she managed.

Sherlock muttered something she chose to take as an apology. He didn't tear his gaze away from whatever he'd been studying for even second. "Did you do as I instructed?"

Molly nodded, feeling a little dazed. "Yeah", she confirmed. She pulled out a blood-test tube. "He… didn't seem happy about being tested. Said that the results would only confuse us."

"We'll see about that." So saying Sherlock held out a hand. It took longer than it should've before she realized to offer the blood-sample and his grunt made his displeasure known.

While he continued his research Molly peered towards the microscope, trying to figure out what, exactly, he was doing. She frowned. "Is that… blood?"

"Yup." He took away the first sample, preparing the one she just brought to be examined. "From another victim. Found from the edge of Thames, close to your visitor. Something's… off."

"What is?"

For a while she wondered if he even heard her. "The nail marks", he supplied eventually. And that was all he said for the next three minutes.

Then, so suddenly that it startled her again, he was up and putting his coat on. There was a strange look on his face. Almost like he was… shocked. "I was right", he declared and for once didn't seem happy about it. "That sample wasn't human blood."

Molly felt like someone had poured a bucket of ice water on her. A shudder crossed her whole body. "Which one?"

By then Sherlock was already fast on his way towards the door. His eyes seemed troubled while he typed furiously on his cell-phone. "Neither."

Molly swallowed hard, feeling even colder than before. "Be…" But he was already gone. " … careful."

It took what felt like ages before Molly finally managed to turn back towards the samples Sherlock left behind. She kept staring at them. And knew one thing for certain.

This had to be one of those most bizarre days of her life, and considering how long she'd been working with Sherlock that was saying a lot.

* * *

Ever since she decided to travel with the Doctor Donna Noble had known that she might end up facing some… rather unbelievable things. And she hadn't been disappointed. Over the course of their adventures her heart had been hurting and racing with terror as many times as it'd been filled with pure joy over being able to discover all those wonders of the universe.

There were very, very good, downright amazing days. And then there were days like this one. The moment she woke up in a hospital, notified by a timid, overly helpful nurse that she had a concussion, she knew that the cause was bound to be something-not-quite-human. She groaned, loudly.

The nurse jumped a little at the sound. "Is… Is something wrong? Do you need pain medication?"

"No", Donna announced sternly. "I need my clothes. I'm getting out of here."

The nurse's eyes widened. All color faded from the woman's face. "You just…!"

"I'll fill out whatever papers I have to. But I'm leaving, now." The headache hammering her skull was unbelievable but she knew that she had to find the Doctor. Quickly. "How long have I… been here?"

The nurse's hands trembled while she gave her the clothes. "A few hours, I think. You were found nearby Thames."

Yes, she remembered now. Bits and pieces, anyway. It was all very confusing and frustrating.

A growl.

Genuine shock on the Doctor's face.

A sharp flash of pain, something attacking her from behind.

'_DONNA!_'

"There's this man", Donna told the woman who didn't seem to know what to do. "Tall, skinny. Impossible hair. Talks and walks a lot." And she really hoped and prayed, from the bottom of her heart, that he was in the condition to do so. To imagine him still and quiet… "He… I think we were both attacked. Is he here?" Seeing the nurse's hesitation she hurried to add. "He's my brother." She'd never known that she was such a good liar.

The nurse's shoulders relaxed slightly but the troubled expression remained. "Oh! He… was brought here from the morgue."

Donna could've sworn that her heart stopped there. _No, no way in…!_ "What?"

"Don't worry, he's alright. Or seemed that way, the last time I saw him." The nurse tried to smile but it didn't exactly manage to soothe her nerves anymore. "The cold water… It must be what caused the confusion. He was checked throughoutly but he refused to stay." The woman bit her lip. "He… kept asking about you. If I'd known to make the connection…"

"Yeah, yeah, save it", Donna groaned, her headache pushing acid into the tone. Relief flooded through her intensely, though. At least the bloody maniac was still alive. _Thank god…!_ "Where is he now?"

"At the police station." The nurse didn't seem entirely sure if she was supposed to share this information. "They… had some questions for him."

Donna felt color drain from her face while dread made her stomach drop. The Doctor and police officers… Well, they wouldn't be a good combination. And now she'd have to get him out of the mess? Brilliant. He'd probably already succeeded in actually getting himself arrested.

The nurse frowned. The smaller woman's hands kept moving animatedly, indicating that she had no idea what to do with them. "Are you alright?"

Donna shook her head, feeling her blood pressure picking up significantly. _She_ was the one who would've needed two hearts to survive _him_! "I'm going to strangle him", she growled.

* * *

Over the years DI Gregory Lestrade had faced quite a bit of things that had left him baffled. Having Sherlock for a consultant made facing the unlikely – _impossible_ – a likelihood. But the man on the other side of the glass in a interrogation room was quite positively the most incredible and inexplainable… _thing_ that'd ever come his way.

"So…" John blinked twice with a new line on his forehead. "Are you seriously telling me that Molly detected _two _heartbeats?"

Greg nodded slowly. "Yup." Three hours, a million repetations of those words in his head and it still didn't make the slightest bit more sense. "And don't forget that he was already dead on a slab. Molly was about to open him up when… Well."

John's shiver was clearly visible. The former army medic's eyes scanned the suspect with years' worth of field experience. "He should be in a hospital!"

"He refuses treatment. Apparently he's feeling perfectly alright. Considering how much he talks and that he won't hold still for even a second I'd say that he's right." Greg rubbed his forehead with a wince. A headache? How lovely. "I offered him a more extensive health inspection but he claimed that he's been through a lot rougher."

John gave him a surprised look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Greg resumed to glaring at the suspect. "I have no idea", he growled reluctantly. "All I know is that the best suspect I have so far is a dead man buzzing around my interrogation room with two hearts beating inside him."

Inside the room it was Sally Donovan's unfortunate task to try and continue the interrogation. "So…", she sighed, clearly bracing herself. "You said that your name is…?"

"… the Doctor", the man replied without a beat of hesitation.

Sally nodded. There was a well balanced mixture of confusion and irritation on her face. "Doctor… Who?"

"Just the Doctor." The man's fingers were drumming at the table, creating a restless yet oddly catchy beat. "I'm sorry, but I really need to go. There was an attack and Donna is still missing. I need to find her."

Sally's eyes narrowed. It was almost possible to see a vein on her forehead beginning to swell unhealthily. "You… aren't going anywhere for a bit. There's been a murder and if you're not the killer you're the only witness. You will receive medical attention if you need such but for the time being I can't let you leave." She made some more notes. "Your home address?"

The Doctor shifted slightly. The drumming intensified. " I don't really have one. I'm not… from around here."

"American?"

"A bit further." The Doctor pursed his lips. "Someone… called me a Spaceman. Something like that."

Sally stared at the man. So did the trio listening behind the glass. "Are you… trying to tell me that you're some sort of an alien?"

Greg kept staring. Then groaned, loudly. "That guy doesn't need a doctor. He needs a psych evaluation."

Sherlock, however, frowned. The detective had been terrifyingly quiet ever since joining him and John, obviously lost in his thoughts. Finally there was a sign of life. "I have a few questions for him." And then, before Greg or John could utter a word of protest, the detective marched into the interrogation room.

Sally jumped at the sudden intrusion. The Doctor glanced at the arrival with a degree of curiosity. "Sherlock!" she snarled, almost like a parent chastising a child. "You can't just…!"

Sherlock, clearly, didn't give a damn. "Could you step outside for a moment, Donovan?" Shockingly polite, really. But with a sharp edge. "I want to talk to the Doctor."

Sally considered for a long moment. Then threw her hands into the air with a groan. "Fine, fine. I'm done with him, anyway."

As soon as she'd left the room Sherlock reached out to his pocket and pulled out something shoved into a evidence bag. It was the strange screwdriver they found from the beach. A stunned gasp left Greg, followed by a long list of curses. "That bastard…! When the hell did he nick that?"

"I'd assume that this is yours", Sherlock stated, his baritone rumbling in a mixture of a growl and a purr. A wild animal on a hunt was the first thing that came to mind. The detective's eyes were sharp and calculative, obviously deducing rapidly.

The Doctor's eyes widened a barely visible fraction. "Yes. How did you…?"

"Because you just claimed that you're not from Earth and this device isn't something from this planet." Sherlock's eyes narrowed while the man leaned closer to the suspect. "You're not our killer. But you do have something to do with this."

"So…" The Doctor frowned, as though trying to deduce the detective. "You believe me?"

Sherlock scoffed. "I wouldn't go that far." The detective leaned forward, a bloodhound catching a scent. "You're a puzzle. You seem to be in your thirties but your eyes and posture suggest that you are, in fact, much older. You keep giving that smile but there's a constant grief in you. You're socially awkward but there are clearly people that you hold dear, including this… Donna you've been asking about. You've been alone for a very, very long time and that makes it hard for you to let anyone close but you _have_ been cared for. Otherwise you wouldn't have this capacity for empathy and compassion. You're very protective. I saw that flash in your eyes when I mentioned Donna's name." The detective's eyes narrowed still. The hunch was growing stronger. "You've had a family, haven't you? But not anymore. You've lost them. You seem very used to losing those you care about." One corner of Sherlock's lips twitched when he obviously saw a confirmation that was invisible to anyone else. "You've abandoned all arms and detest violence. I saw the reaction you gave to the crime scene photos. Still you keep looking for confrontations and struggles persistently. Your body and mind… They're restless and at unease without those. You're not our killer but there was a time when taking a life wasn't a feat to you." The Brit nodded to himself. "Yes. I recognize a war veteran when I see one." The man leaned backwards on his chair with folded arms, signaling that the deduction was closed. "So, I know that you haven't killed lately. But I don't have enough data to trust you."

Greg winced with pity for the poor man, John did the same with a shudder.

For a few moments, just a few moments, the Doctor looked like someone who'd just been shot at repeatedly. The man tried to disguise the tremor that crossed him with balling one of his fists for a few seconds. And then the tension and all the emotions that caused it were forced back, replaced by the already familiar air of energy and curiosity. "Fascinating…", the man murmured, tilting his head. "Are you a telepath of some sort?"

Greg honestly wished that he would've had the time to catch Sherlock's ensuing expression with a camera. It was simply priceless. "No, I'm not", the detective replied flatly.

The Doctor sighed, deflated. "Pity. They're fasinating creatures. Now…" The alien clapped his hands together. "I'm going to tell you what's going on. But then I really need to dash. There isn't a lot of time before they kill again."

John tensed up. Greg shivered. Sherlock's glare hardened. "'They'?"

* * *

It was still quite early but Harriet Watson was already stumbling while she made her way towards home. Every now and then a brief chuckle left her when she took in her own condition. Maybe the man at the park was right, after all, when announcing that she'd had one too many. He still deserved the slap she gave him.

She was already standing right outside her block of flats, rummaging through her bag with drunken fingers and trying to find her keys, when she heard a growl.

Chills went through Harry while she looked around, adrenaline rendering her sober for a brief moment. There was no one. A yet another small chuckle burst through her lips while she shook her head. "You really did yourself good this time, Harry", she slurred to herself.

Exactly one second later there was another growl. This time she didn't even have the time to turn around. Her screams were left echoing into the walls but no one was there to hear.

* * *

Before seeing the samples under the microscope Sherlock would've definitely felt far less inclined to believe anything that the Doctor had to say. But he _had_ seen and, much to his intense irritation, couldn't explain it. And then there were the nail marks on the body and ground that didn't belong to any known species. So he listened although he knew that he'd need far more data before he'd be even remotely convinced.

None of this felt believable, really, and a part of Sherlock was telling him to just walk out the room and let Greg hand to lunatic to psychiatric care.

The Doctor quite clearly saw his doubts. There was wariness in those somehow impossibly old eyes. "It took me a while to know why I was dragged to London. Now, of all times. Until I saw those two creatures fighting."

Sherlock's eyebrow bounced up. It was easy to see the wheels turning. "Do continue."

The Doctor took a deep breath, like a professor preparing himself for a lecture meant for particularly thick sculled students. "I'll try to keep this simple for you." He was fortunate enough to not notice the downright murderous glare aimed his way. "I trust that you're familiar with the concept of introduced species?"

Sherlock nodded. The detective's fingers were drumming agitatedly. "Yes, the cane toad in Australia. Do move on before I get bored."

The Doctor didn't seem to hear past the 'yes'. "Millenniums ago a very special canine breed was spotted on Earth. To this day it's unclear if it was an original species that mutated somehow or something that came from another planet. But those shapeshifting creatures, half wolves and half human, thrived. Back then humans knew of their existence and didn't hesitate to take advantage of their canine personality traits, strength and stamina. They, a species that still truly respects human and wants nothing but to co-exist peacefully beside them, was reduced to slaves and servants. Tools. The ancient Egyptians were particularly cruel masters." There was the slightest hint of bitterness in the bizarre spaceman's voice before the man collected himself. "In the end they couldn't take it anymore, despite the fact that they still felt immense loyalty towards human beings. So they opted to disguise themselves into their human forms, to a point where they became nothing but a stuff of legends. Rumors. Stories for books and fairytales. They remained close and kept looking after humans, serving them and helping them, but no longer dared to reveal their true appearances to anyone but each other."

Greg wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry at the surreal story. John… had gone worryingly white and the former soldier's trembling fists were balled tightly. Sherlock simply stared, unblinkedly. "Are you talking about werewolves?" the detective asked in the end, justifiably incredulous.

The Doctor chuckled. "No, no, no. You see, like almost all horror stories and fairytales even those tales are based on something very real. Despite being nothing more than whispers and echoes these creatures remained in the minds of humans. Even when the real name of their race has faded into the sands of time long ago."

It was stunning, really, how quickly Sherlock recovered himself. Saying that the detective appeared convinced would've been a dire understatement, though. "And what you said about introduced species…?"

"Ah, yes. That's the saddest part of the original species' story." The Doctor sighed. "A couple of decades ago another similar species found its way to Earth. _Danshées_. Also shapeshifters, although far less shy about their original form. But far more blood thirsty and brutal, with absolutely no regard towards human life. If they feel threatened they attack, hard. You could compare these two to domesticated dogs and wolves." The alien's jawline tightened a little. "For a while everything went well despite occasional territorial disputes. But two feral species that similar can live side by side peacefully only for so long. The territorial disputes… They've been growing more and more aggressive until they've reached the point of war. I'm sure that there have been plenty of suspicious attacks lately. The one that I witnessed… It's merely the first one that became reported as a homicide."

Sherlock kept staring. Then scoffed. "Are you honestly expecting me to believe this sci-fi story, _Doctor_?"

The Doctor gritted his teeth. "You don't understand! If this invasion isn't stopped _Danshées_ will destroy this original species!"

"I believe you." They both turned their heads towards the room's doorway. Stood there, his face chalk white but with a military posture and his hands perfectly steady, was John Watson. "You… You came all the way here to protect my kind. And I'll help you stop that massacre."

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Oh boy…! Now that's quite a background story. And who would've thought that John would manage to keep such a secret from Sherlock!

Soooo… Was that any good, at all? PLEASE, do let me know! This story is something VERY new to me so I'd reeeelly like to hear from you.

Until next time, folks! I really hope that I'll see you all there.

Take care!


	3. Aches and Blows

A/N: It took me about a day longer than I would've wanted but now the new chapter IS finally ready to be published! Hooray?

First things first, though! THANK YOU, a thousand times over, for all your reviews, listing and affection towards this story! I seriously can't believe that this one's found so many friends. You've made me incredibly happy! (BEAMS, and hugs)

Awkay, because I've already kept you waiting too long… Let's go! I really hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

* * *

Aches and Blows

* * *

John's revelation was, ultimately, met by a deep, crushingly heavy silence. Well, silence apart from his thundering heart and madly rushing blood. There hadn't been many times when John would've felt as nervous.

In the end the Doctor was the first one to speak. "You're one of them? Yes, of course you are!" A spark appeared to the man's eyes. "This is fascinating! Until recently I wasn't entirely sure if there were any of you still left."

John glanced towards Sherlock, the nervousness from before not easing any. The detective's expression was unreadable, almost blank. Was the man still with them? With a deep, steadying breath he nodded and focused on the stranger. "Yes, there's still a small group of us left." _For now, at least._ His jawline tightened. "Is it true? Can you help us?"

The Doctor never got the chance to respond because just then Sherlock was up, heading towards the door. John gulped. "Sherlock…"

He was interrupted immediately. "We're leaving." The detective's finger was pointed sharply at the Doctor. "And you're coming with us."

"I can't let you walk away with my suspect!" Greg exclaimed. When did the DI appear to the doorway? Their eyes met briefly. John met a lot of confusion, a bit of hurt and maybe even a hint of fear, but no disgust or rejection. It was… well, much better than he'd known to expect.

Sherlock scoffed like he'd just been insulted. "Don't be an idiot, Gary! It's blatantly obvious that he isn't your killer." The tall Brit glanced demandingly over his shoulder. "Now let's move! Baker Street is waiting."

John blinked once, slowly. The emotional overload was still taking its toll on him but at least he was starting to feel a little more functional. "Baker Street? Why?"

"Because I need to consult my Mind Palace." Sherlock's voice was unreadable and the detective was on the move again so quickly that the blogger had no time to really see his face. "And I can't do it in the presence of all those idiots in this building."

* * *

Sherlock was a proper genius and very much aware of the fact. But when it came to… _sentiment_ he was in strange waters. That's why he was infuriated by the tidal wave of what could only be feelings flooding through him while the bizarre trio sat in a cab.

In a way he was thrilled and proud for figuring out what most had refused to believe. Dr. John Watson was certainly anything but ordinary. The man being something not quite human, however… He was forced to admit that he hadn't quite known to expect that.

Shock was there, obviously. Even for Sherlock Holmes it wasn't every day he ran into an alien and found out that his best friend was something atypical. He would've never believed it if John hadn't been the one to confirm the truth. There was also hurt. It stung, more than he would've cared to admit, that John hadn't told him. That the former soldier most likely never would've without this so-called Doctor's arrival. Sherlock wasn't exactly sure which one bothered him more. That he'd failed to see it or that John hadn't trusted him enough to tell.

"It wasn't about trust." John's words managed to catch him off guard. There was a troubled, nearly desperate look on the older man's face. "It's just… After spending my whole life forced to hide the truth…" The rest faded away.

Sherlock glanced swiftly to the side to discover that the Doctor was talking to his cell-phone. He knew that he should've been asking who the strange man was talking to but at the moment it failed to concern him. Instead he focused on John. His jaw was tight for a few seconds before the words fell out. "Does Mary know?"

John sighed, sinking more heavily against the seat and averting his gaze. The reaction alone answered loudly enough. "I sort of had to tell her when she got pregnant with my baby. I'm… I didn't even know that my kind could breed with humans."

Sherlock couldn't quite identify the brief jolt that crossed him. He filed it away, deciding that he'd have plenty of time to process something so pointless later. His head was whirring furiously, putting together pieces that were floating chaotically all over his mind. "It's why you joined the military." It was much more of a statement than a question.

Still John nodded stiffly, looking away. There was a mirthless half-smile on the man's face. "It's been said that I become very loyal, very quickly. Such is common for my kind."

"It's also why you were sent home", Sherlock continued the trail of thought, feeling like the puzzle was finally beginning to make sense.

A brief bang of guilt crossed him when John jolted, as though having been shot at. The former army medic's hand began to rub the leg that used to have a limp. "I… When I got shot… I began to transform, right in front of several soldiers. It was the only thing my body could think of." There was a loud, heavy gulp. "They… They said that I'd done my work exceptionally well, that I deserved respect and a million thank yous. But… They couldn't keep… someone like me. So they did the only thing they could. They discharged me honorably with the knowledge that I'd never be allowed back again."

Sherlock gritted his teeth, trying to will down the new-found storm of rage. After everything he'd done John had just been cast aside in such a manner… "Are there many of your kind in the army?" he inquired in the end.

John nodded stiffly. "Yes. But… I'd rather not name them."

Sherlock chose not to hear past the 'yes'. His mind was already dashing on, clicking forward like a well oiled machine. "Major Sholto", he muttered finally. "That's what made him special."

"Alright, that's enough, thank you." John's tone was guarded and demanding. Perhaps a little pleading. The smaller man's eyes were pure lava while glaring into his. "I'll answer any question concerning me. But I'm not going to talk to you about anyone else. That's not my place."

Sherlock nodded, feeling a sudden need to apologize. Yes, he'd have a million questions. Later. Because the Doctor had finally finished the phone-call and as he lifted his head he saw a familiar building.

"We're here", Sherlock announced, already on his way towards the comfort of 221B.

* * *

As soon as they made it to the flat Sherlock, quite as expected, flopped to the couch and sunk so deep into his thoughts that it would've taken a natural disaster to pull him out. John stood frozen for a few seconds before doing the only thing he could think of. He made his way to the kitchen and began to prepare tea.

He was staring at the kettle, impatiently waiting for it to boil, when he heard a bizarre sound and sensed that he wasn't alone. Turning his head quickly he saw the Doctor all but poking at him with the device that'd been found from the river bank. "Oi!" he protested. "Get that thing off me, now, thank you very much."

"Sorry." The Doctor actually did as ordered. "This is just… quite fascinating. I've never met someone of your kind."

John wasn't quite sure what to say in the surreal situation at hand. "Well…", he began at last. "The feeling is mutual." He frowned. "Where exactly did you come from, anyway? Why are you so determined to help my kind?"

"I'm just someone who ends up into… situations like this quite often and doesn't know how to leave them well alone."

John frowned. A couple of seconds ticked by. "What's that supposed to mean?"

At that very moment the tea-pot chose to whistle. They both jumped, startled. That was when John noticed something.

John's eyes flashed. And instantly his doctor mode took over. "Could you take off your shirt?"

The Doctor gave him a very long, odd look. It took several moments before a sound came out. "What?"

"Take off your shirt", John repeated with patience he'd learned with a madman of a flatmate. "Because I've heard you've been attacked violently recently. And I saw the way you just flinched when shifting unexpectedly. If you really want to help me the least I could do is to make sure that you're not badly injured or dying."

* * *

Greg's headache from before was most definitely escalating while he sat in his office, his head buried into his hands. And he was almost sure that he could feel a vein swelling, about to burst. Insanity, all of it. His only suspect just having walked through the door was the least of his problems.

So… He just met some sort of an alien. And, apparently, one of his friends wasn't a human at all. This was all about two similar species clashing, in London of all places.

How the hell was he supposed to do the paperwork for this one?

"Uh, sir…?" Sally Donovan's atypically hesitant voice was barely enough to break his trainwreck of thoughts. She gulped, appearing shaken. "That guy… He's definitely innocent."

Greg frowned. How was it possible that his blood pressure still kept climbing up? "How can you know?"

"Because there was just another attack, while he was here."

Only a little bit later a woman burst into the Yard. She received very suspicious looks upon demanding to see the Doctor. What Donna Noble didn't know was that she was less than five minutes late from running into Greg who was headed towards Baker Street.

* * *

As soon as the Doctor had taken off his shirt, completing the task with a visible amount of difficulty, John winced with sympathy. Heavy bruising was already forming around the stranger's sides and stomach area. As soon as his fingers poked on a injured spot there was a clearly detectable shiver of protest.

"I'm sorry", he apologized sincerily. He finished up as gently as possible. "It doesn't feel like anything's broken but there's some deep bruising. I'd be much happier if you'd agree to be x-rayed, though."

The Doctor shook his head. "There's no need. I'm fine."

John gave the man a dry look and sighed, admitting defeat. His gaze scanned through the rest of the alien. "Did you receive blows anywhere else?"

The Doctor seemed to consider for a while. Then, lengthily, nodded. "I may have banged my head. I was unconscious upon ending up into the water."

John gave the man an incredulous look. "And they let you leave the hospital after you told them that?" He then snorted at the fault in his logic. "Well, of course you didn't tell them." Without bothering to ask for a permission he began to feel the taller man's scalp the best as he could from the storm of hair. "What is it with you mad geniuses and impossible hair?"

"Hmm?" the Doctor inquired, as though waking up from a deep thought.

John shook his head. "I was just thinking out loud." He then frowned upon feeling a rather large swell. "You've definitely received a blow. You may have a concussion."

The Doctor shook his head. "Nah, I'm too thick sculled for that." The alien's eyes then darted towards Sherlock, who was still on the couch in his thinking pose. A frown appeared. "Is he alright?"

John nodded. "Yes, definitely", he reassured dryly. "He may stay that way for hours. So, tea?"

And tea they had.

John couldn't keep himself from staring at the stranger, just a little bit, while the man took a long sip of his drink. In the end he couldn't control his tongue any longer. "So… You're here to help my kind. Why?" he demanded again. The lines on his forehead deepened while the trail of thought swooshed on. "Who are you?" 'What are you?' might've been a more appropriate choice of words but he preferred not resulting to that.

The Doctor looked at him for a moment, obviously considering before making up his mind. "I'm… someone who's spent a long time traveling. As to why I want to help your kind…" The man shrugged. "I'd hate to see such a magnificent species go. I've already seen entirely too many disappear."

It took a while before John felt coherent enough to attempt speaking. Before he even found his voice. "What kind of a doctor are you, anyway?"

The alien shrugged. "The doctor of time." And that, apparently, was all the explanation he was going to get.

John couldn't help it anymore. Maybe it was the shock over his secret being revealed, over his kind being in danger. Or maybe it was all the adrenaline. But all of a sudden he was giggling, quite loudly.

The Doctor gave him a strange look.

John shook his head, mostly futilely trying to regain control over himself. "I just… I could've never imagined that a day would come when Sherlock can be considered the all in all most normal person in the room."

They focused on drinking tea for a while. Then, finally, John managed to find enough breath and courage for the question spinning around his head. "Do you really think that you can help my kind? That you can save us from extinction?"

The Doctor studied him. Then resulted to the only honest answer. "Yes, I hope so."

They both shuddered a bit when without a warning Sherlock jumped up from the couch with the agility of a tiger. There was steel hard determination in the detective's eyes. "Lestrade's coming", the man announced sharply.

The Doctor gave him a curious look when the dark haired man stormed past. "Are you sure that he's human?"

John groaned. "That's what I ask myself every day", he sighed. With that they followed the detective.

The two of them made it within hearing range from Sherlock and Greg just in time to hear the DI's murmured words. "… been another attack."

John winced, stepping into view. "Bloody hell…!" he sighed. "Who was it?"

Greg's eyes were full of sorrow and apology. It was more than enough to give the necessary warning before the verbal blow fell. "John, I… I'm so sorry. But Harry… She's gone."

For a few moments John simply stood there, staring. Trying to will his brain into accepting the impossible truth. Trying to convince himself that it wasn't just another sick nightmare.

Harry… Harry couldn't be gone.

Not now, not ever, not really.

Not when the last time she tried to call him he didn't even pick up.

"John?"

Someone was calling out his name. He probably should've answered it but he couldn't. All he could do, just barely, was breathe.

"John, you're going into…"

John needed to get away. So he pushed himself to motion and began to march towards his room, ignoring the fact that there was still a voice calling out to him. As soon as he made it there he slammed the door as loudly as he possibly could.

It still wasn't louder than the screaming in his head that wouldn't stop.

* * *

For some reason that he couldn't quite understand Sherlock found it incredibly hard not to go after John. But in the end he did what came naturally to him and used cold logic. John hadn't stormed out and at the moment the only threat to the former soldier was John himself. He was also almost certain that company was the last thing the blogger wanted at the moment. Besides, there was something else he needed to do.

Because his darkest deductions had just been confirmed.

"They're after his family now", he mused out loud. Knowing better than well that he wasn't wrong. "It's only a matter of time before they'll find him." If they were able to catch up with Harry, who kept jumping from one place to another like a restless wild animal, locating John wouldn't be much of a challenge. Especially when the man was more or less a public figure.

The Doctor nodded, a very solemn expression on his face.

It was quiet until they heard Greg's shaky exhale. "Christ…! This is really happening…"

Sherlock ignored the DI. His eyes were pure, hard steel when he focused on the Doctor once more. Then he saw something that made his eyebrows furrow. "I've missed something. You claim that you came here to help John and his kind yet you seem guilty." He took a purposefully threatening step closer. "What are you hiding from me?"

The Doctor sighed heavily. "Yes, I came to help his kind. And I will." For a microsecond a hint of pain was visible in those impossibly old eyes. "But you need to understand that some things are inevitable."

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Well, that ended on a bit chilling note… So what, exactly, is inevitable? Will the enemy-species be stopped? And will Donna ever find her way back to the Doctor?

Sooooo… Was that any good at all? PLEASE, do let me know! I'd really love to hear from you.

Until nex time, folks! I really hope that you'll all join in then.

Take care!


	4. A Little Bit of Feminine Touch

A/N: It's Friiiiiday, which means that it's update time! But, first things first…

THANK YOU, so very much, for all your reviews and support for this fic! It really means a lot, especially since my 'Who'-fic typing is only just in the beginning. (HUGS)

Awkay, because I have a feeling that you didn't come here to read my a/n babblings… Let's go! I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

* * *

A Little Bit of Feminine Touch

* * *

In the safety of his room, where no one except for the cameras Mycroft Holmes may or may not have installed could see him, John finally gave himself the permission to break down. Just a little bit. For a few moments.

Harry… Harry was dead. Never coming back. And no matter how many times and how bitterly they'd fought… No matter how many times she'd broken his heart…

He shoved his fist into his mouth hard, using it along with all his willpower to keep a scream from breaking free while he squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

* * *

/ _"Harry", he whispered once. When he was only five-years-old and suffering from a alarmingly high fever. "Stay?"_

_Harry sighed. Her hand was comforting while it stroked his sweat covered hair. "Sorry, Johnny. I have to go to bed. But I'll come back in the morning."_

_John blinked blearily, his stomach dropping just a little. He was almost asleep again. "Promise?" he murmured._

_Harry grinned. It was so bright and comforting that no being in the universe would've dared to question its power. "I promise. It's what sisters do."_ /

* * *

John's eyes opened, so quickly that in a bit more coherent state of mind it might've startled him. He gritted his teeth and inhaled a sharp breath. Blissfully unaware of the streaks of tears on his cheeks and of the pitiable trembling that'd taken over all his body. And right there he did what he'd grown accustomed to doing all his life.

He forced himself back up again and carried on solely with the power of his determination.

* * *

Downstairs the remaining group did their best to keep themselves focused on something productive. At the moment it wasn't John – a, apparently very much _not_ human John – who was in his room, grieving the loss of his only living family member. At the moment the most productive, the most useful, thing to do was to try and find a way, any way, to keep John's entire remaining species alive. To keep John _and_ his unborn daughter alive.

Or at least that was what they tried to tell themselves.

"These…" Greg frowned, desperately trying to find the correct word. "… creatures…"

"_Danshées_", Sherlock and the Doctor corrected simultaneously and clearly instinctively, one almost offended and the other audibly irritated.

Greg looked at the two dryly. Lovely. A stereo Sherlock was exactly what his headache needed to be soothed. "Yes, _Danshées_. Sorry." He really wasn't. "Tell me, so that even I understand… What the hell are they?"

"A very old introduced species. I've found some marks of them, a long time ago, from a entirely different planet. No one knows how or why they ended up on Earth. They're not exactly the kind of a species that likes to answer questions." The Doctor gave the DI a sharp, almost demanding look. "Can I see the crime scene photos again?"

Greg was well aware that he was most likely insane to allow the man to lay a hand on highly classified evidence. But he was desperate, stuck, fed up and in a desperate need to bring an end to whatever this was as fast as possible. So he did as he'd been asked to. "So… Shapeshifting aliens. Alright." Which, of course, it wasn't. "Why are they killing residents of London?"

The Doctor frowned. "That's what I'm wondering", the alien admitted. "They have the same instincts as wolves. They are ruthless if necessary and extremely territorial but they shouldn't be openly looking for confrontations like this, unprovoked. These kills…" The man shivered upon remembering the crime scene photos. "They're too brutal and calculative to be merely the result of territorial disputes. We need to find out what's causing this behavior to bring an end to it."

Sherlock, who'd been worryingly quiet since John withdrew, gritted his teeth loudly. There was something chilling in the detective's eyes. "We may not have time for that", the tall Brit pointed out sharply. The rest of the thought wasn't voiced but it hung heavily in the air.

Instantly the Doctor's whole posture straightened and the genius' eyes clashed heatedly. "This is a entire species you're talking about! Yes, they're a threat, I regret to admit that. But we will _not_ simply destroy them. We have no right to make such a decision."

Greg gulped hard, feeling a sudden need to interfere. "Okay, let's calm down. Surely that wasn't what Sherlock meant."

Sherlock's jawline tightened and the man's eyes darkened still but no words were offered and the silence that followed was heavier than lead.

"So…", Greg breathed out at last. "What's the next move?" He didn't like taking orders but if he was perfectly honest with himself in this case he didn't have the slightest clue how to proceed. And it infuriated him.

"While _Danshées_ aren't as shy to show their appearance as John's species they still don't enjoy doing so in front of those they don't trust. And having a chat with them… may not turn out strictly pleasant", the Doctor mused out loud. "But if we want to get to the root of this we need to find one of them."

Sherlock nodded slowly. It was easy to see the wheels turning. "I have contacts that may be able to help." Already as he spoke the detective was sending a text, without a doubt activating his own miniature army.

The Doctor appeared curious but refrained from asking.

That was when they heard the sound of a door opening. Three heads turned just in time to see John appearing. The former army medic seemed to be in control over himself but just barely. The steel in his eyes was almost enough to mask the recently shed tears.

Surprisingly it was Sherlock who reacted first. The detective's gaze scanned the smaller man from head to toe. "Feeling better?"

John nodded absentmindedly. Then took a deep breath before focusing on Greg. "You need someone to officially identify Harry's body, don't you? Let's go and get that done."

Greg shifted with discomfort. "John, she… She's not exactly in the… best condition. The coroner is still processing her. I don't think that it's a good idea…"

If anything John's eyes hardened, effectively halting the sentence. "Just… trust me. Whatever… Whatever will be waiting…" The former soldier cleared his throat and blinked quickly. "It can't be worse than what I've already imagined."

Greg frowned. He most definitely wasn't a fan of the idea but he knew that there was nothing he could do to stop the former soldier at the moment. "Fine."

"I'm coming along", Sherlock announced immediately. Greg was quite proud of himself for catching the faint crack on the mask of indifference. "There's some research that I need to do."

Greg barely managed to suppress the burst of laughter. _Yeah, sure you do…_ "Alright, let's get going, then." He gave the Doctor a sharp look. To be honest he was glad that he'd have to leave only one madman to 221B. The poor apartment could only contain one unsupervised genius at a time. "You… Don't touch anything. Don't do anything. And don't even think about leaving."

* * *

Yes, John had seen his share of bodies. Yes, he'd been mentally preparing himself for something absolutely horrible. But this was sister, his Harry. His first comrade. Despite all the times he'd cursed her in his head and out loud.

Molly gave him a long, uncertain look and fidgeted. "I, uh… Greg probably told you that I haven't… processed her, yet. But her face… There shouldn't be too much damage, so…"

John nodded, his heart aching and racing in his chest. Molly was his friend but at the moment he had no patience left. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't tear his gaze away from the body that'd been covered by a white sheet. "Just… Just show me."

The white sheet was pulled away, just enough to show her face and a little bit of the upper body. In that very moment John's whole world spun. His knees were dangerously close to giving out underneath him. It was like the bottom had dropped from his world.

He'd been expecting something horrifying, certainly. But the sight before him… It was nothing like that. It wasn't gory. And he honestly didn't know if it made things easier or a thousand times harder.

The person before him was, without a doubt, Harriet Watson. The years of hard, alcohol induced life had left their marks on her but she was still stunningly beautiful. Small and much too thin, visibly fragile as a porcelain doll. Deathly pale, sans the hint of blood covering her long, blonde hair that framed her angel's face perfectly. Apart from a hint of bruising around her neck that blood was the only hint of damage he could see. It was like she'd been sleeping. Or pulling her cruelest prank ever.

John didn't realize that he'd been holding his breath until a choked, strangled gasp left him. His eyes blurred while he reached out a unsteady hand to brush her cheek, and it took longer than it should've before he realized what was disturbing his line of vision. "Harry…"

He felt Molly shift beside him. Her hand twitched but in the end she didn't touch him. "It… It was quick, John. The hit to the head… It rendered her unconscious." The coroner's gaze flickered towards him before she went on in a quiet, more than a little hesitant voice. "She didn't feel… the rest."

John didn't ask what 'the rest' entailed. He didn't want to know. Didn't think he'd be able to bear listening.

For a few more moments he stared at his sister. At her still somehow innocent, lifeless face. And choked out the only words he could think of. "I'm sorry…!"

* * *

Greg's guess that Sherlock had only one reason to accompany him and John became cemented when the taller man waited with him outside Molly's den, pacing furiously like a caged tiger and muttering constantly under his breath. Under any other circumstances the clear traces of how much the so-called psychopath cared would've been endearing. But at the moment Greg couldn't keep himself from casting impatient glances towards the door through which John disappeared with Molly what felt like decades earlier.

For some reason his memories chose to drag him back to Sherlock's fall. He could still remember, very vividly, the man John was then. It was the only other time he'd seen the former army medic's eyes look the way they did today. And it scared him.

Sherlock emitted something that sounded like a groan. The man glared at the door that separated them from John. "What's taking them so long?"

At the moment Greg didn't have the energy to feel the anger he should've. "What he's doing there… It isn't easy, Sherlock. Give him time."

"We don't have time!" Sherlock objected heatedly.

Right there Greg looked, really looked, at Sherlock. Finally seeing. It wasn't all that long ago Sherlock died for two years to save John's life. He knew, for a fact, that there was terrifyingly little the detective wouldn't have been willing to do for his blogger. And now… Now there was nothing Sherlock could do. Just then Molly's door opened, halting whatever Greg had been about to say. They turned simultaneously, postures stiff and trying to prepare themselves for anything. Instead of John, however, out came only Molly. There was a torn look on her face.

Sherlock frowned. "Where's John?"

Molly cleared her throat and wiped her eyes although there was no visible moisture. "In the toilet." She sighed. "It was Harry."

Greg muttered a half audible curse, rubbing his face roughly with one hand. Of course it'd been a almost sure thing, but… Somehow he'd still been hoping that this would be a loss that John wouldn't have to endure.

Greg sighed, his shoulders slumping a little. "So… Now what?"

As though to answer his question at that very moment Sherlock cell phone bleeped, announcing a new text. The detective's eyebrow bounced up. "That was quick." The expression changed to something suspiciously close to worry when the man read the message.

"Sherlock?" Greg demanded firmly. His stomach had already knotted with dread. "What is it?"

Sherlock responded him with showing the text, which turned out to be from Mary Watson.

'_It should be easy to do, since one of them is already here with me. Had been keeping an eye on me. I'll deliver her to Baker Street._'

"We have to go, _now_."

* * *

What the Doctor neglected to tell his new… comrades was that he'd invited company. But then again, he was never told that he wasn't allowed to let someone in. So when there was a nearly frantic knock on 221B's door he rushed to open without a hint of hesitation.

In a flash his arms were full of Donna Noble. "You infuriating little…!" She took a deep breath, giving him a evaluating look. "Are you alright? Why did it take you ages to finally call me?"

"I… was a bit busy." He found it the safest not to mention that he'd been interrogated by the police. "But I'm fine." Well, he did have some bumps and bruises but he'd dealt with a lot worse. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Donna looked at him like he'd said something incredibly stupid. "Because you just took a trip to the morgue, Spaceman." She couldn't quite hide her wince.

It was the Doctor's turn to worry. "And you? Are you alright?"

She nodded sharply. "I've got a mighty headache but that's all. Right now I'm a tad bit more about those werewolves you mentioned."

The Doctor told her everything that'd been discovered so far, all the annoyingly little he knew. Well, _almost_ everything. Because there was this one little thing…

… that she, of course, caught a hint of instantly. "Doctor." There was some well justified suspicion on Donna's face. "There's something you're not not telling me. Spill."

He gritted his teeth. "This isn't something that you want to know. Trust me." He most definitely wasn't overjoyed that he knew this particular detail.

Donna's eyes narrowed. Gained _the look_ that he knew entirely too well. "Tell me, right now. Or I'll tell Sherlock and John that you're hiding something." She then blinked twice, quickly. "We are going to help them, aren't we?"

The Doctor sighed. There was no way around it anymore. "We _are_ going to help John's species. But… We won't be able to save everyone." Knowing that she wouldn't be satisfied without a more throughout explanation he went on, every word tasting horribly bitter on his tongue. "When I traveled to London once, to a period of time not far from here… I saw an obituary on a paper. And… I just met that man today." He looked at her, directly into eyes, to make sure that she understood the full gravity of the situation. "I looked at him, listened to him and talked to him, Donna. Knowing that very, very soon he'll die. And that there's nothing I can do to stop it."

Donna's eyes widened. Flames of desperate rage lit up in their depths. "But… You're a Time Lord! There's gotta be something…!"

"We're not gods, Donna!" He then sighed, trying to control his tone when he spoke again. "We can travel through time, yes. But… We can't interfere on certain things. We'd cause a rift and who knows how much further destruction. So…" He gritted his teeth, hard. "I… I'm sorry. But we can't. Some things… They're inevitable."

Donna buried her face into her hands. It took a bit too long before she spoke. "Which one of them is it?" she asked in the end, her voice quieter than it should've been.

The Doctor swallowed. The horrid taste from before hadn't gone anywhere. "Believe me, you're much happier not knowing." He knew that he would've been.

They were both on the edge. That's why they shivered when there was a unexpected, harsh knock on the door. They exchanged questioning glances before the Doctor moved to open.

Stood behind the door was a woman with shortcut blonde hair and a couple of bruises on her face. She had a gun pressed against the head of someone he couldn't see yet. "Are you the Doctor?" she demanded sharply, a dangerous flame taking over her eyes.

The Doctor nodded slowly while fighting the urge to take a step backwards. He was genuinely worried that she might turn the gun on him. "Yes", he admitted lenghtily. "And you are…?"

The woman's eyes calmed slightly but not enough to allow him to relax. "I'm Mary Watson. I told Sherlock that I'd… bring something over and he said that you'd be here."

The Doctor's eyebrow bounced up. Somehow curiosity managed to outweight the reasonable concern over the still entirely too present firearm. "Something?" he repeated.

Mary nodded. "You needed a _Danshée_." She yanked at her mystery companion, the gun not faltering for even a second. "Here's one."

The stranger was revealed and for once in his life the Doctor was speechles for a few moments. His eyes widened. At the moment he was very eager not to process the other reactions of his mind and body. "Irene Adler…?"

Despite the weapon still trained at her the woman grinned. It was the cheeky one he remembered all too well. "Hello again, Doctor."

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: NOW it's a party! (chuckles) But oh no, otherwise things sound a bit bleak right about now… We'll see how this mad ride continues.

Soooo… Thoughts? Questions? Comments? Rants? Please, do leave a note down below if you do!

Until next time, folks! I really hope that I'll see ya all there.

Take care!


	5. The Value of Life

A/N: It's Friday, which means that it's time to update. Hooray?

First, though… Thank you so much for all the reviews and love you've given this story! They really mean the world to me, you know? (HUGS)

Awkay, because I have a feeling that you'd like to go on with the story… Allons-y! I really hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

* * *

The Value of Life

* * *

When John finally emerged from the bathroom, then from the morgue and joined Sherlock and Greg his eyes ached and his chest felt painfully tight. He took a deep breath, stealing a one more moment just for himself, then made his presence known. It was ridiculous how weak his legs were all of a sudden.

Sherlock's intense gaze scanned him all the way through, asking a lot more than any words could've. Greg gave him a worried glance. "Ready, now?" Thankfully the DI knew better than to ask if he was alright.

John nodded, not trusting his voice yet.

"Before we go back to Baker Street… We have visitors." Sherlock's eyes seemed darker than usual. "Mary caught us a _Danshée_."

The shock and terror were almost enough to bring John to his knees. At least it made him find his voice again. "What?! Is she…?"

"Yes, she's fine", Sherlock interrupted impatiently. Was that guilt? "But there's something you both should know…"

* * *

Donna Noble had been traveling with the Doctor for a while, now. She'd seen new planets, so many different alien races that she'd lost track, had the best and worst times of her life. She'd already assumed that it'd take quite a bit to surprise her these days.

And then she met Irene Adler.

The Woman, who had long hair that'd been dyed to a color that lingered somewhere between rich red and black, didn't seem to even notice that there was still a gun trained on her. Her posture was perfectly relaxed while she moved one of her long legs elegantly on top of the other. "So, Doctor… It's been a while", she murmured in a velvet smooth tone, eyeing on the Time Lord from underneath long lashes. Her gaze then flickered towards Donna. "I see that you've finally found yourself a new companion to play with."

Donna's left eyebrow twitched hazardously. If she hadn't been suffering from a splitting headache she would've without a doubt snarled. "Oi! I don't know what sort of games the two of you have been… _playing_", she growled. "But he's definitely not touching me. Ever."

Irene smirked. "Ah, a feisty one." What was _that _look all about? "I like her."

Mary, who'd been observing the exchange thus far with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance seemed to decide that she'd had enough. "Alright, as entertaining as this is… If you try to distract us again let me remind you that I have a roll of ducktape with me. Trust me, it definitely doesn't feel pleasant on your lips."

Irene's eyebrow arched with interest but she did keep mouth shut.

Satisfied to have the attention of those eyes off her Donna turned her gaze towards the Doctor. "Did you know about this?" she demanded. "That she's… one of them?"

The Doctor nodded, his expression infuriatingly unreadable. "I did. But to be honest… I thought that she was killed a long time ago."

Irene shrugged. "I rescued myself. The second time I was saved in Karachi by a black knight. Quite clichéd, really." She tilted her head, looking at the time traveler. "He reminds me a bit of you. So brilliant and dark, so very alone in that busy mind. Such black stars, you two." Her eyes twinkled a bit. "Such special boys. He's the only one that has ever tricked me. You were the first one who out of all the roles I've played preferred the original _Danshée_ one."

Was the Doctor blushing?

Donna felt a unpleasant shudder go through her. Her eyes had to hold some of the disbelief she was experiencing while she stared at the Doctor. "Did you two…?!" Like she would've actually wanted to know…!

Irene smirked far from coyly, her eyes not straying from him. "Doctor Boy Scout here is far too noble for such. But a girl can dream."

The Doctor cleared his throat. He was, however, saved from any further humiliation by the sound of a door opening. In rushed three men Donna couldn't remember seeing before, grim looks on their faces. The sandy haired one of them had suspiciously red, puffy eyes and although she'd never met him she felt a instinctive need to offer a word of comfort. She held her tongue, though.

Which didn't save her from all attention being locked on her. "Who are you?" the tallest of them demanded. His face remained unreadable but there was something dangerous in his eyes.

"She's Donna, my companion", the Doctor answered, seemingly oblivious to the threat in the air. "She crashed into this particular time and place with me. She's human, just like you."

His explanation didn't diffuse the tension entirely but eased it enough to make it bearable. There was a round of hasty introductions, during which Mary and the man named John exchanged a fond smile, her gun never faltering from Irene. The simple, effortless gesture of affection brought Donna both a hint of warmth and envy.

And then Irene was the centre of attention again. The _Danshée_ didn't seem to mind. "Well hello, stranger", she greeted Sherlock. She then glanced towards John and Mary. "Congratulations."

John didn't seem impressed in the slightest. Whatever traces of recently shed tears there'd been were long gone. "You have knack of not staying dead, don't you?"

Irene laughed and shrugged. "What can I say? Being dead is boring."

Sherlock took what looked like a protective step closer towards the smaller man. Along with quite a bit of other secrets that Donna couldn't read she was able to distinguish intrique and anger on his face. "Why were you keeping an eye on John's wife?"

"I was trying to make sure that what's left of my former pack won't attack her", Irene replied smoothly. Her eyes slid towards Mary's gun. "Now, I'd feel much more comfortable having this conversation without a firearm pointed at me."

Greg scoffed. "What, and we'd give you a chance to attack us or escape? No."

"Maybe we can arrange a compromise that'll satisfy everyone involved." Without a word Mary pulled a pair of handcuffs from the covers of her clothing. "These should do", she murmured. It was almost disturbing how much skill and experience she showed while fastening their unwilling visitor.

The Doctor simply looked on, one eyebrow arched. Greg's eyes widened to a point where it was a miracle they remained on their rightful spots. Sherlock cleared his throat, a degree of curiosity in his eyes. John's cheeks gained a mighty bit of color while he fidgeted.

Irene chuckled. "Oh, come on now, boys. Surely you've seen a bit of games between girls before?" she teased. Her tone was nothing short of purring.

Donna rolled her eyes. All of a sudden she remembered very clearly why there were so few men in her life. "Oh, for the love of…! Try not to act like a group of schoolboys for a moment, why don't you?"

Mary seemed to stiffle a laughter. The men shifted, embarrassed, until the Doctor spoke. "People are dying." Well, when he said people… "You're here because we're trying to understand what's going on."

Irene shrugged. "It's a long story", she warned them. "But then again, I'm the one of us who has all the time in the world. The dead have no rush, unless they're Sherlock Holmes."

* * *

After the supposed death of Sherlock Holmes Kitty Riley was on the top of her career. The hero reporter who exposed the true face of the detective. And then the truth became revealed, sending her whole life crumbling. The fall didn't stop to her being demoted and him walzing back to life.

It was the death of her career and very life, she mused while once again sitting in a pub. Hoping against all reason that the sharp drink in front of her would be the solution to her misery. She almost downed it until she heard a disheveled and reeking, seemingly homeless man babbling about werewolves. He wouldn't have believed it himself if he hadn't seen them attacking Harriet Watson.

Kitty's eyes flashed, right there, because suddenly she knew exactly how to resurrect herself.

"Why don't you let me buy you a drink so we can talk?" she suggested.

* * *

"As the good Doctor here knows, I've come a long way from home." For the first time Irene showed actual emotion. Even though it disappeared as fast as it appeared. "The previous time we met my planet was dying. My entire race was doomed. He tried to help us, but… Well, there's no messing with the grand plan of the universe."

The Doctor's eyes darkened. "You know why I couldn't do more." Did _he_ still remember why?

"Yes, you told me. Yet you stayed for five days. Fought for us." Irene tilted her head, just a little. "You were still trying to figure out how to help, weren't you? You were still trying to find some way. Any way."

The Doctor nodded solemnly, looking away.

"I followed you on your last night there. When you went to see the planet's dying core." Irene mused quietly for a moment. The memory seemed to hurt. No wonder. "When I saw your eyes I knew, even without asking. The ground began to shake and grumble less than an hour after your departure. A little less than two hundred of us managed to escape." The number of all lives lost was never mentioned.

"That's how you ended up on Earth", John mused out loud.

Irene nodded. "It was a mere coincidence. This was the first habitable planet we spotted. We were hungry and desperate, running out of fuel." Her nose wrinkled and again what looked a lot like emotion appeared to her eyes. "The first humans we met… They were hostile." Her gaze swept towards John. "And your kind were helping them. We lost many more lives during those first few weeks. Those of us who survived came out stronger."

Greg's eyebrow twitched. There was some sadness for her kind in his gaze but for the time being anger outweighed it. "You mean more bloodthirsty?"

"My kind never settled in very well. We're too ferocious, too highly led by our instincts. Some of us are trying, though, using whatever methods they can to stiffle their most violent outbursts. Many still want revenge on a kindered species that betrayed us. And on humans. A lot of us have ended up into jails." Irene's eyes flashed. "And then… There were quite many like me who chose to join James Moriarty's pack."

John fell deathly pale. Mary shivered slightly. Greg gasped. Sherlock's jawline tightened to an extend that had to hurt.

"Who's James Moriarty?" Donna demanded.

"He was one of the most dangerous monsters that have ever roamed around this universe", Sherlock growled. Sounding very much not human for a long moment. His eyes narrowed dangerously. "I should've known that he couldn't be human."

The thought was overwhelming for Sherlock, really. While he'd been on his two-year exile, traveling all around the world, he hadn't been dismantling only Moriarty's web. He'd been dismantling a species.

The Doctor took a deep breath. There was a great deal of steel hard determination on his face. "Alright, then. We know what we're up against." He nodded to himself and began to pace around. "No we need to figure out a way to stop them."

"Haven't you realized it already?" Irene's face couldn't be read. "I'm truly sorry." And she really seemed to be. "But there's still a group of around twenty of Moriarty's loyal _Danshées_. And there's only one way to stop them." Her tone left very little to be questioned.

A frosty, sombre silence filled the room while realization dawned.

"So… Which one do you choose?" Irene's eyes darted towards them all, finally pausing on the Doctor. "Do you destroy almost all there's left of a species? Or let them keep killing the members of another, peaceful race as a punishment for the sins of their ancestors?"

* * *

Time passed by unbearably slowly while the small group tried to reach a horribly cruel decision. While they attempted to figure out how much the lives of those _Danshées_ weighed in comparison to those that might end up being lost because of them. While they had to play the role of possibly choosing the fate of a species.

And it wasn't all that weighed Donna's mind.

She couldn't help casting glimpses towards the men who'd gathered into the kitchen with Mary. Towards Greg, who was rubbing his face exhaustedly with one hand. Towards Sherlock, who was trying so very desperately to appear nonchalant although the very air around him was screaming anguish. Towards John, who was painfully tense yet visibly more than ready to fight for everything he held dear. One of his hands kept brushing Mary's mightily swollen abdomen affectionately. The sight of the trio brought a lump to Donna's throat.

They were good people, all of them. Soon one of them would be dead. And there was nothing she could do about it.

All of a sudden she understood perfectly why the Doctor hadn't wanted to give her the name, because if she'd known…

"Are you alright?" The Doctor's voice startled her out of her thoughts. His face was the picture of grief, helpless rage and years older than mere hours before.

Donna nodded slowly. "Yeah, of course." She then nudged at him gently. "You?"

"Yes, of course."

On the spur of the moment she took his hand. Only for one, prolonged moment but still. Somehow it seemed that they both needed it.

They were maddeningly stuck, really. If they didn't stop the _Danshées_ a lot more of John's kind would die. If they did those _Danshées_ would lose their lives. Arresting wouldn't work. They'd only take their natural forms and cause a bloodbath. Which left them with only unthinkable options to consider.

It took longer than it should've before she was able to speak again. "Doctor… Whatever decision we reach today… It's going to be the right thing."

"We're dooming real, living beings to death, Donna!" The Doctor's voice was relatively quiet but full of storm. So were his eyes. "There's no right thing to do in this."

She had to agree.

* * *

John felt sick to his stomach while he stood in the kitchen, drawing comfort from the presence of the most important people in his life and his unborn child. Having to make decisions like this… It just wasn't fair. What right did he have to…?

Back in Afganistan he was forced to stare at all the bodies gathering around him – some of which lives he claimed personally – and decided that never again. Since then he'd followed Sherlock to the war in London and shot a cabbie to save the mad detective's life. And now there was a new battle ahead of him.

A lot of people had already died. Including his sister. And now the threat lay on both him and his family. He couldn't just stand idle.

It was time that the doctor became a soldier once more.

He wasn't entirely sure why his gaze chose to stray towards the Doctor right there. The alien looked back at him, deep and profound understanding in those impossibly old, pained eyes. It seemed that they were both facing the same mental war.

"John?" Sherlock's voice caught his attention. Anyone who didn't know the man as he did would've claimed that the expression he met was impassive. "What do you want us to do?"

Honestly, John wanted to go back in time to the moment of bliss before they found that body by Thames. But that option didn't exist. And so he looked towards Greg, the apology that was screaming in his head reaching his eyes. "You… should stay here, keep an eye on Irene." He cut the oncoming protest short. "What we're about to do… It isn't strictly speaking legal. The less you know about it the better."

It was obvious that Greg hated the idea. But there was very little the DI could do. And so, barely able to contain tears, the man folded all three of them into a huge hug, one at a time. The hold that crushed around John was unnecessarily tight. "Come back, you hear?" Greg blinked rapidly and the moisture that'd been building up into his eyes disappeared. "All of you."

John nodded stiffly, already knowing that it might be a promise he would not be able to keep.

He didn't want Sherlock to come along and risk his life. And he definitely didn't want his pregnant wife to join them. But he also knew that no matter what he did or said they'd follow him, anyway. Entirely too similar, those two.

And so the three of them joined the Doctor. The alien looked at them with a tense expression, the fake smile that lingered on his face when they first met completely gone. "So… What did you decide?"

"Irene told us where to find them. So let's go", Sherlock ordered. There was steel hard concentration in his eyes while he stormed towards the flat's door.

With their their group of five went in a solemn silence, grim looks on their faces. They all knew what they'd have to do. None of them liked it. The sick feeling in the pit of John's stomach didn't ease for even a second.

While they clambered to a cab John used the moment of distraction to send a text message.

'_It's time, and I'll need your help._'

* * *

Back inside Greg took a deep breath, surprised by how much it hurt. He balled his fists upon realizing how badly his hands shook. His heart was hammering and breaking in his chest.

He'd already lost Sherlock once, and now…

"How likely is it that they'll come back alive?" he demanded, worry and downright panic sharpening his tone. There was no answer. Ice cold dread filled him while he turned as quickly as he could.

Only to discover that Irene was missing.

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Soooo… What's going to happen next? How will our group handle this delicate situation? Is someone really going to die?

Comments? Thoughts? You know where to leave a note. (grins)

I REALLY need to get going now. Until next time! I really hope that you'll all join in then.

Take care!


	6. For the Past and Future

A/N: It's Friday, ya all! Which means that it's time to update me. We'll see where this mad ride will take us next…

First, though… THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart for all your reviews and support! They really do mean a lot, ya know? (HUGS)

Awkay, because I've got a feeling that you want to go on with the story… Let's rock! I really hope that you'll have a good time with this one.

* * *

For the Past and Future

* * *

The silence in the car speeding towards the remaining _Dansheés_'base was nearly deafening. All the passengers were quiet and deep in thought, wondering just what they were headed towards. How it'd all end.

At some point the Doctor and Donna exchanged dark, pained looks, both of them knowing one detail more than they would've wanted to.

In the end they reached a school that'd been abandoned almost a year earlier. For some reason no one had bothered to transform it into anything new. Well, almost no one. They all saw security cameras. Several of them. Along with bars covering some windows.

It wasn't a school anymore, it was a fortress.

"So…", Donna breathed out. She seemed a little pale. "Any ideas?"

Both the Doctor and Sherlock opened their mouths but it was Mary who spoke. The look in her eyes was definitely that of an assassin. "We need to split up. Otherwise it's going to take too long to go through a building of that size. Sherlock, you're coming with me." Seeing the look in John's eyes she was quick to cut off the oncoming objection. "You'd want to come with me, I know. But right now I don't need a over-protective husband hovering around me. I need you to be a soldier. Understood, captain Watson?"

Despite the circumstances John smirked. "Yes, ma'am." And suddenly the rest of them felt like they'd been witnessing something unpleasantly private.

Just before they parted ways John and Sherlock shared a long, meaningful look. One that clearly said '_Don't you _dare_ do anything stupid_'. Mary, on the other hand, marched determinedly to John and sealed him into a long, searing kiss. The words she whispered upon leaning to his ear were meant for just the two of them. "Come back… or I'll name our daughter Hamish."

John emitted a quick, breathless chuckle.

Parting ways was far from painless. But in the end the Doctor, Donna and John were making their way towards the east entrance. Carefully avoiding all cameras and keeping an eye out on possible traps they sneaked in, taking a look around in the surprisingly shadowy, long hallway.

That was when they heard the sobs. Those of children. They exchanged looks and began to approach without a hint of hesitation. The classroom's door from behind which the noise came was locked but no challenge for the Sonic. They opened the door, and froze.

There, huddled together tightly, were children who couldn't be older than five or six. Nine of them, most likely _Dansheés_. They all appeared exhausted and terrified. There wasn't a single dry eye amongst them.

"Oh my…!" Donna breathed out, then stepped forward. Her feet didn't appear entirely steady. "It's… It's alright", she reassured the children. "We're not going to hurt you, we're here to help. I promise."

One of the children, a tiny redhead with the bluest eyes they'd ever seen, gulped. Then, finally, spoke up. "Are you… Are the new teachers?" Her speech was far from perfect but they understood, loud and clear. "Nia got missin'." They preferred not to guess what happened to the teacher.

Donna nodded shakily. "Yes, sweetie. We're… the new teachers."

"Get the children out of here", the Doctor whispered to Donna, so that only the two other adults heard. "It's… They don't need to see what's going to happen next. Make sure that they're safe."

Donna seemed fully ready to argue and she quite clearly wasn't pleased with his plan. But she was also forced to admit that the little ones had to be protected. Her eyes narrowed. "You'd better be careful, you hear? Both of you."

The Doctor tried to grin. He wasn't sure how convincing it was. "I wouldn't want to face your wrath, would I?"

Donna's tiny grin had no humor to it. Her facial muscles were too tight. "Maybe you are a genius, after all."

The men watched as Donna ushered the hesitant, terrified children out of the building. All the way she was trying to convince them that everything was going to be alright and that they'd be reunited with their parents soon. After their departure it became entirely too quiet.

"Will they be safe?" John half-whispered in the end.

The Doctor nodded. There wasn't a shadow of a doubt in his mind. "I've seen what that woman is capable of", he stated fondly. "Those children are most definitely going to be safe."

* * *

As they went through the massive building, their steps soundless and their eyes darting around to spot any threat, both John and the Doctor knew that staying quiet was quite essential. There was a pack of furious, wolf like aliens lurking nearby, after all. But it seemed that the time traveler wasn't very good at keeping his tongue in check.

"I'm sorry, about your sister."

John shivered and his jawline tightened. The relationship between him and Harry… was complicated, to say the least. He didn't feel comfortable with unfolding it to someone he just met. So he nodded curtly. Then, unexpectedly, unleashed a tiny, bitter chuckle. "I… used to fear that she'd drink herself to death one day. I never thought…" He shut his mouth painfully quickly, swallowing down the foul words.

Some quiet moments passed by before the Doctor spoke again. The alien's voice was a touch more tense than before. "When we find the _Dansheés_… What are you going to do?"

"Whatever I have to", John replied without a beat of hesitation. A jolt of something painfully sharp went through him. "I'm… I'm a husband. And in a few weeks I'll be a father." His eyes hardened. "I'm not… I can't let them harm my family. I won't." He took a deep breath. "It's my job to protect them. So I will." He didn't like it, not one bit. It was against his very nature. But from the moment he proposed to Mary he'd given himself the promise that he wouldn't let harm come her way. And he wasn't the kind of a man who took promises lightly.

After that the talking finally stopped. The quiet that fell was crushingly heavy, loaded with emotions that John couldn't quite grasp. "John… I've seen the outcome of this day, once", the Doctor whispered eventually. Sounding very frustrated, tired, old, angry and determined all at once. "I'm not sure if I can stop it, but… I need you to know that I tried."

John frowned. All of a sudden dread filled his whole body. "What… are you talking about?"

There was a brief moment of heavy silence before the Doctor answered. "I've allowed too many inevitable things to come to pass. Too many good people to die." The alien gritted his teeth, hard. "The universe owes me one."

John never got the chance to demand further explanations. Because in the very next second there was a small, metallic sound. And he felt a brush of alarm.

"I'm sorry, John."

Something hard collided with his head and all lights went out.

* * *

Elsewhere in the building Sherlock and Mary froze, both of them feeling cold chills running down their skin. They exchanged a look, their faces unreadable and saying everything necessary at the same time. It was a mystery how they both knew but it hit them with absolute certainty.

Something was wrong with John.

They didn't have a lot of time to dwell on that worry, though. Because a few moments later they came to a realization that they weren't alone anymore. Steps were heard and only a few moments later they were surrounded. It didn't take a genius IQ or an assassin's experience to realize that their companions were hostile.

"Put… down… the guns", a female voice commanded in a growl. There was no mistaking the strength behind that threat. "There are several firearms aimed at you. And believe me, we're not too shy to use them."

One… Two… Three… Sherlock counted six figures in the shadows. A couple of them had attempted to hide themselves quite successfully but not well enough. Not that knowing the number would've done a lot of good.

Sherlock measured up his options, all too soon coming to a conclusion that he didn't have but one. They were outgunned, outnumbered. The moment they'd make a move…

Mary stiffened beside him, clearly coming to the same sombre conclusion.

Sherlock's mind was rattling on at a impossible speed, trying to form a plan F, when all of a sudden it became clear that he wouldn't need one. He saw one _Dansheé_'s eyes widen and that was all the warning he got. In a flash a sharp series of six taps came while bullets flew through a gun's silencer, each of them sinking to a lethal spot. Some of the aliens stood frozen still for a moment, looks of dazed disbelief flashing on their faces. But in the end they were all down.

Sherlock turned around slowly, not fully believing that the threat was over yet, and wasn't quite able to keep a tiny trace of his surprise from showing.

Irene stood only steps away, slowly lowering a recently fired gun. There was a entirely too familiar smirk on her lips. "Did you really think that I'd let you have all the fun?"

* * *

The Doctor wasn't proud of what he did but he also knew that he didn't really have a choice. And so he hid John's unconscious form carefully, making sure that the other man was as comfortable and safe as possible. After checking that John's breathing and pulse were even, and taking a close look around in case of any potential threats, he continued on his way. It was harder than it should've been to not look back.

The Doctor counted that he'd been walking on for about five minutes until he sensed that he'd been granted his wish. He tensed up and froze, his two hearts jumping a little. He wasn't alone.

"Well, well, well… Look what the cat brought in", a male voice stated in a biting tone. "If it isn't the mighty Doctor? The last time I saw you was a little before my home planet was destroyed, taking most of my kind along."

That definitely hurt. The Doctor breathed through it, turning slowly to meet a group of five men. His attention focused on the one up front. In his mid-forties, tall and definitely attention catching with his elegant posture, dressed in a expensive looking suit. Shortcut, well groomed brown hair. A pair of piercing, grey eyes.

Those eyes were the last thing he saw before leaving the doomed planet of the _Dansheés_. Those eyes were pleading him to do something, _anything_, along with the heated words. While he knew full well that there was nothing he could do.

"I'm sorry that I couldn't help you back then." And he really was. He'd _felt_ the destruction of the planet, of all those at the time relatively innocent lives, although he'd been far away. Some failures were unacceptable. "But now… I'm trying to keep you from being destroyed again."

One of the taller man's eyebrows rose. "How about that. Are you offering to help us?" It sounded deeply venomous.

"Help you?" The Doctor gave a brief chuckle that was a mixture of disbelief, amusement and bitterness. "Help you, destroy another species? Help you dig your own grave?"

The man's eyebrow arched. A rebellious chin was lifted although a hint of fear could almost be smelled. "Digging our own grave?" A pair of dangerous eyes flashed. "You do realize that you're threatening us, don't you? And that, _Doctor_, was a very stupid thing to do."

The Doctor refused to let himself be intimitated. Stopping this… It was far too important. "The humans are already on to you. And you've all seen how they react to being threatened. They attack and destroy."

"So do we."

"You? A handful of a nearly extinct species against the dominant species of this planet?" Sadness gripped the Doctor's heart. "It's hopeless! They'll wipe you away!" Couldn't they see? This path… It'd only lead to death and destruction.

The _Dansheé_ arched an eyebrow. "Why, exactly, would you care? What does it matter to you what happens to us?"

The Doctor sighed heavily. "I've seen too many races disappearing, becoming destroyed entirely. Including my own." It was almost impossible to even voice, and borderline unbearable to remember, but if it'd save what little was left of a species he'd already let down once… "And… I'd much rather not see it happen, ever again."

This time a woman emerged from the shadows. She was very young, only somewhere around her mid-twenties, and beautiful. She had long blonde hair and large hazel eyes that had a flame of fury in them. Her expression didn't carry any less fury. "So you're telling us to just walk away?" Her Welsh accent was thick, deepened by the array of emotions. "After everything they've put us through… What they've put this entire, amazing planet through… We should just let it go and walk away? Let them get away with it? Humans and _Kial´ais_?"

It was the first time the Doctor heard the name of John's kind. But he couldn't let the surprise slow him down. Not with how much there was at stake. "Yes", he confirmed, as calmly and evenly as he could. "For the sake of you all. Especially your children." It wrenched his heart. But… He'd seen what humans were capable of if they were scared. The was no guarantee that they wouldn't do even the unthinkable.

Apparently he hadn't chosen the correct thing to say. Because if anything the woman's eyes became even more furious, even more dangerously determined. "For the sake of our children…", she hissed, as though every word burned her tongue. "For the sake of our children… I'll make sure that we'll never, _ever_ end up to the way were when…" Her eyes watered when pain came surging through but the fury didn't lessen at all. "Do you know when I would've needed you? When you would've been able to help me? It was when we lost our planet and ended up here, into this hell! Before those monsters got a hold of us!" She gritted her teeth painfully. "If I ever question whether we should do this or not… I have a map of scars all over my body to prove it! I have several lifetimes' worth of memories of watching everyone I cared about being buthered and worse!" A single tear rolled down her cheek and she was trembling, hard. "I… I was only seven, and I had to watch them kill my entire family!"

"Cadi…", the man who spoke to him first murmured in a warning tone, casting a very sharp look towards her.

She shook her head, none of the resolve fading. "How many times do I have to tell you? If you speak to me, use my _real_ name, not the one _they_ gave me!" she growled. She only managed to relax marginally. "You deserve to know why. So, here it is." Her nose wrinkled while a flood of memories surged on. "I… I thought that I'd die, too. I'm not sure if I would've even preferred it. But… Then the government caught a hold of what was happening. Shut down the entire place. Wiped it away, as though nothing ever happened. Tried to offer everyone… a fresh start, I suppose, to cleanse their own conscience. I was an orphan. All alone, homeless. So I was eventually given to a Welsh couple. I heard them complaining that they would've wanted a baby, but… A man in a suit spent two hours with them behind locked doors, and they took me to their house. They gave me a new life, a new name. A new… me."

Deep sorrow filled the Doctor. Finally, finally he began to understand. "They tried to erase your whole past, your whole identity, from your memories", he murdered sadly. It took a while before he managed to pry further. "You didn't settle in very well, did you?"

Cadi scoffed. "How well would you imagine that a traumatized _Dansheé_ would adjust with parents who enjoy watching cricket and theater, and who dislike strong displays of emotions? I was grieving my family, terrified that I'd end up back into _that_ place, still recovering from the torture. And… I barely undestood their language. I learned a bit of English from those who captured me, but…" She swallowed loudly. "I had no love or support, no family, no friends. Everyone at school looked at me like I was a monster, even the teachers. I hated every second of it. And when I was fourteen I finally ran away. That's when I met James Moriarty. He helped my find some purpose to my life."

The Doctor felt disgust swirling in the pit of his stomach. He shook his head. "Killing people isn't a purpose", he pointed out hotly.

Cadi sneered, her former smooth accent mixing with a sound that had to come from her original form. "Oh? And does your life have a any better purpose? I remember your stories, even though I was only a little girl back then." Her eyes darkened. "Floating around in your silly blue box for all eternity… The last of your kind, all alone although a lot of people try to travel with you… Waiting for the day when you finally run out of new faces…" Something unnamable could be seen on her angel's face. "At least I'm still fighting for what I believe in."

The Doctor felt his own resolve rising and gaining strength. His hand twitched barely visibly as it grabbed on a device. "So am I."

He moved faster than any of the aliens around him could react. With a determined hand he grabbed Cadi's wrist. A bright flash swallowed them.

The rest of the beings in the room were left to stare at the empty spot where they stood only a second earlier.

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Oh boy…! That was sort of action packed. (grins)

But, the real question goes… Was that any good at all? It's time to give your vote.

I've reeeally gotta dash right now. So, folks, until next time! I REALLY hope that I'll see you all then.

Take care!


	7. Tiny Problems

A/N: First of all… I'm so, so, so SORRY that it took me this long to update! It's been two months, hasn't it? (winces) I had a bit of a… writer's block, I guess. (Aka my head jamming totally.) BUT, now I'm back on track AND, what's more, I know exactly where this story is going; what'll happen and how it'll end.

THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for your reviews, listings, love and support! They're what's kept this story from sinking into the ocean of abandoned fics. You guys are more precious than you could ever imagine! (Gollum so ruined that word for me, heh!)

Awkay, because I'm a bit nervous about kick-starting this story again… Let's go! I REALLY hope that this turns out worth the wait.

* * *

Tiny Problems

* * *

One of the more positive traits of his biology, arguably at least, was John's ability to regain consciousness quickly. That's why he swam out of the gray hue that the Doctor pushed him into impressively fast. Instead of opening his eyes immediately, however, he stole a few moments and just listened. Careful to spot any signs of trouble or threat.

He did hear shouts and growls from a distance. And he did smell a _Dansheé_, quite a large number of them. But this presence held no threat.

Slowly, slowly he opened his eyes. Just in time to see someone opening the door of the closet he'd been hidden into. What he encountered was a _Dansheé_ with stunningly familiar blue eyes. He had to blink a couple of times.

The last time they actually met he was an intern and he was a terrified, lost boy who came to him with several broken bones and questionable bruises. Both sensed what the other was. But instead of enemies they found allies. Since then hundrets of phone calls, e-mails and text messages had been passed back and forth. The most recent one of them not too long before… well, this unfortunate situation.

/ '_It's time, and I'll need your help._' /

"The Doctor decided that I shouldn't be involved", he groaned an explanation to the arrival, up before the words were out. There was fire in his veins and in his eyes. "Did you get the team gathered?"

The other man nodded sharply. "It was on a short notice." A degree of irritation and a load of adrenaline thickened the Welsh accent. "But yes, I did. And one of us was already with Sherlock and Mary."

John couldn't quite hide his surprise. _Irene Adler…?!_ Well, perhaps he should've known. And it wasn't even relevant at the moment. He nodded. "Right. Now let's bring an end to this. I have to find Sherlock and Mary before they get in the way of your team. You, go and find your sister."

"I already know where she is." Those blue eyes darkened significantly. "The Doctor took her to the ruins."

* * *

In the meantime Sherlock, Mary and Irene were making their way through the long ago closed school. All of them tense. Prepared for just about anything.

"How did you find us?" Sherlock demanded in the end, mistrust and something else restrained but evident in his voice.

Irene smirked and winked at him. "Oh, Sherlock… Did you really think that I'd let you slip away from me all over again? Especially after your heroic stunt in Karachi."

There was no reading the expression that appeared to Sherlock's face. Did the man blush? It was a bit too dark to tell.

Mary groaned, just quietly enough to make it safe. "While it's very entertaining to listen to you… flirting, or whatever the bloody hell that is… We may have a problem."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Well. I'd say that much is obvious."

Mary gave the detective a sharp, borderline murderous look. "_Aside_ the obvious", she hissed. There was a brief pause, during which her jawline tightened. "I'm… having these sharp twinges every few minutes. I've been monitoring them for hours and they're growing closer and closer together." Seeing that her companions weren't getting it she continued. "I'm pretty sure that I'm in labour."

* * *

The Doctor knew all too well that it was quite possibly a fruitless effort. A feeble, doomed to fail attempt of reaching out to a troubled soul. But he had to try.

And so, in what wasn't much more than a blink, he stood with Cadi on the rooftop of an apartment building. Looking down at an area they both knew entirely too well. Both of them fidgeting under the weight of the memories.

It was the place where she and her kind were held captive upon crashlanding to Earth, all those years ago. A lifetime ago. It was the arena of most of her darkest memories.

"Why the hell did you bring me here?" Cadi hissed like a wounded beast.

The Doctor took a deep breath. "Because I need you to see. To understand."

He saw those horrors, too, when he came across the place only days after it was shut down. He saw the blood. The hastily covered bodies. The pain and devastation, the near destruction of a species. He smelled death. But the traces of it were gone now.

Instead he saw a playground. Swings. Laughing and playing children. Instead of blood and tears the wind carried the scent of flowers to him.

"What you and your kind went through… It was an injustice that nothing can replace or make right. But you survived. And life… It goes on." He gave her a swift sideways glance. "I know exactly how you feel right now. That guilt and helpless rage. Yet your path of revenge and destruction will only lead to more death. I've tried it, I've seen it." Quite futilely he attempted to swallow down the bitter memories those words brought to life. "All those people who lost their lives… They wouldn't want you to get lost as well. They wouldn't want to see you get swallowed by the past."

For few seconds Cadi stared at him. Then scoffed. "What life can I have in a world like this? In a world where people refuse to learn from their mistakes, instead hide them with playgrounds and flowers?" Her eyes flashed. "I promised, on the corpses of my siblings, that I'd make the world that killed them burn! And I'll fight to keep that promise until I die!"

The Doctor's lips opened but he was stopped by the sounds of approaching footsteps. They were soon followed by a male voice. "You've already shed enough blood in my name, Aime."

They both turned their heads to see a man in the shadows. They couldn't quite see his face. The Doctor, however, felt his blood run cold at the sight of a very familiar Torchwood symbol. And clearly he wasn't the only one who recognized it.

Cadi's eyes narrowed hazardously, full of venom, disbelief, hurt and something close to horror. "You…!" she growled. The sound was something decidedly not human. "You. My own brother. You became one of _them_? One of Torchwood?"

The man stepped into the light, his blue eyes ablaze and not betraying a thing at the same time. "I was lost, like you. Separated from my kind. But instead of James Moriarty I found something else." The Welsh accent was smooth although the words and facial muscles were tense. He gritted his teeth. "I needed to find you because you're the only real family I have left. Torchwood… They were the only ones with the necessary data."

Cadi's eyebrow arched and a snort slipped through her lips. "So… You're telling me that they'd hire an alien?"

The man shrugged. "You know how persuasive I can be. They needed someone with inside information and I volunteered. They agreed and kept me on a tight leash." He swallowed hard, like trying to gulp down something particularly unpleasant tasting. "I almost found you. And then Canary Wharf happened. All the data and all the traces of you were lost. But so was most of the data about me." A new name. A new start.

Cadi, or perhaps she should've been called by her real name, stared at the man for the longest time. Recognizing and staring at a stranger at the same time. "Jaunos…"

And at that very moment pieces clicked together in the Doctor's head. The force was enough to make his eyes widen, just a little bit. He'd never seen this man he'd heard so much about but now… Now he finally knew.

/ _"Jones, Ianto Jones."_ /

Jack was right. Ianto Jones really was good at keeping secrets. Terrifyingly good.

"Doctor." Ianto's tone was firm and clipped. Were those fangs beginning to show? "This isn't your war. Our kind… We fight our battles." Sharp blue eyes met his. "There's nothing you can do without risking too much. So walk away and make sure that those who are supposed to be safe stay that way." The _Dansheé_ children. Sherlock. Mary. Greg. They had no part in this entire mess.

The Doctor wasn't one to walk away from a war. But Ianto was right. This wasn't his to fight. And so he gave a stiff nod, then turned away and began to move on although absolutely all of him screamed against it.

For a one more time, for a beat, Ianto's voice stopped him. "And Doctor? Jack… Whatever happens he'll never know about any of this." There was definitely genuine emotion, there, no matter how hard the newly exposed alien attempted to hide it.

"If he already doesn't he won't", the Doctor promised. In some other situation he might've found a hint of humor from it all. Trust the mighty Jack Harkness to capture the affection and fire of a pure blooded _Dansheé_.

As soon as they were left alone the siblings slipped to their native language. One that neither had used in a very, very long time. "_I… __I thought that you died_", Cadi nearly whispered. "_With the others._"

"_I should've died, a lot of times_", Ianto admitted. He took several steps closer, resulting to them circling around each other. Their postures stiff, neither trusting. "_I don't know why but… I'm still here. And I'm willing to do anything to save you. Even if it's from yourself._"

* * *

Considering that he was an actual genius it was amusing how blank sheer shock wiped Sherlock's face. Like the detective's brain had simply tilted. It took what felt like an eternity before the man spoke. "What do you mean, in labour?"

Under different circumstances Mary might've chuckled. As it was all she could do was emit a rather harsh, violent noise, along with very vulgar words in several languages. "Exactly… what I… said", she snarled. Loudly. She focused on breathing for a few moments. In, out, nice and even. It soothed the ache a little but she knew, all too well, that it was merely calm before the storm.

She would've most definitely screamed out loud if she hadn't been worried about arousing unwanted attention.

"We need to get you out of here", Irene murmured. There was just a hint of genuine softness in her eyes, traces of the maternal instincts that were foreign to the Woman. "Preferably before you'll go into a shock."

Mary cast a sharp look at the other woman. The wave of annoyance was enough to distract her from the newest twinge of pain. "I'm not… going into a shock."

Irene gave her a small, wry smile. "I wasn't talking to you, love."

Sherlock didn't seem amused. Didn't seem to hear at all, really. With that they all focused on finding their way out of a battle.

After what felt like ages, especially with the snarls and other worrying noises that seemed to be creeping closer, they found what looked like a door to freedom. They opened it eagerly. Only to freeze to the spot.

Yes, it might've been an exit once. But it'd been modified since the school was shut down. There was a room that'd been divided by what appeared to be a window. They could, however, instantly tell that it only opened a view for them. Their rapidly forming theory was supported by the splatters of blood on the floor and the battered, equally stained wooden chair. Chills went through them all.

Interrogation room.

They'd stared for the total of three seconds until on the other side of the window a door opened. In walked a person they all knew better than well, eyes firm and a gun held in a just as tight grip. He walked in like a well trained agent, inspecting each corner before daring to relax marginally.

"John…!" Mary and Sherlock gasped almost simultaneously.

* * *

Since meeting the Doctor Donna had found herself from a lot of… bizarre places and situations. But never, even her wildest imagination, had she pictured herself playing a babysitter for nine hysterical alien children. The whole situation was so surreal that if she hadn't been so worried and terrified she might've laughed.

Her mother had been pestering her about having children – if only she'd see her now…

Donna was currently busy trying to calm down a crying five-year-old girl who clung to her so tightly that it hurt. She jumped a little with startle when her cell phone began to ring and winced when her reaction made the alien child cry even harder. She didn't have to look at the caller ID to know who it was. "Where are you?" she snarled. "If you're planning on dumping me with…!"

"_Donna, listen!_" The Doctor's tone was enough to make her obey, no matter how little she liked it. "_The children… You need to get them to safety, alright? Get them to Baker Street. Greg and Mrs. Hudson should be there._"

Donna couldn't say that she was very pleased with the plan. She gritted her teeth. "And how, exactly, do you imagine that I'd get nine panicked alien kids all the way there? I don't even have a bloody car that'd be big enough!"

She could almost see that all too familiar grin. "_You're Donna Noble. I'm sure that you'll find a way._"

Donna wasn't quite as optimistic. She was about to tell him as much until her eyes scanned through the small, shadowy room around her and widened. Did she just say nine children? Because she could only see eight.

She gulped. "Doctor? We may have… a problem."

There was a small pause that felt torturously long to her. "_Yeah… We do._" And then there was an explosion that nearly made her drop the cell phone.

Donna's heart was pounding painfully hard and her eyes were ridiculously wide while she waited for something, anything. "Doctor?" No response. "DOCTOR!"

* * *

Mary and Sherlock stared at John in something close to disbelief, both trying to fully process the situation. The doctor seemed alive and well. So close. Yet so far.

"John!" Mary shouted as loudly as she could. Without pausing to wonder if it'd be of no use she made her way to the glass and banged, hard. "John!"

He couldn't actually hear her, of course. But perhaps he could smell her, or maybe he merely sensed her. But whatever the case was he made his way closer to what he assumed to be a mirror or possibly a wall, peered at it with a frown. Most likely without even thinking he placed one hand to the cool surface, clearly trying to see through.

Mary, ignoring the pains of her constantly progressing labour, mimicked his gesture. She gulped thickly. "We're here, John. Right here."

John's frown deepened and he pressed his hand even more tightly. With such force that it was easy to imagine it melting right through the glass. For quite a long, stilled moment the elevated breathing of Sherlock and Mary was all the noise in the room.

And then it all began to fall apart.

Mary emitted a small cry and Sherlock stiffened to what had to be a painful extend when the door right behind John opened soundlessly. In sneaked three _Dansheé_s, approaching the former soldier who was too distracted to catch their scent. Fully in their beast forms, ready to attack.

"JOHN!" the two cried out almost simultaneously. Their usually masked tones colored by such an amount of sheer terror that it would've stunned anyone. Their hearts racing in fear of losing the one they'd fought so very hard for.

"Turn around!" Sherlock snarled almost desperately.

But it seemed that whatever connection they'd had broke, there. Because John didn't hear them. Didn't turn around to face the approaching threat.

Sherlock, Mary and even Irene were also missing the obvious. Because directly behind them a door opened. And without making even the slightest bit of noise two _Dansheés_ sneaked their way in, fully ready and willing to kill.

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Oh boy! Now THAT'S what I'd call intense. (gulps) Soooooo any good, at all? Or deletion material?

Like I said, I've got a FIRM structure for the rest of the story. There'll be less than five / five chapters left. Would you be willing to stick around through those?

In any case, thank you so much for still staying with this story! Who knows. Maybe I'll see you again soon?

Take care!


	8. A Fixed Point

A/N: SURPRISE! No, you're not seeing things. This really is an update that wasn't hopelessly deleyed. (grins sheepishly)

THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, to you all for sticking around! It's been a long ride, made longer by… unnecessary halts. But hopefully also a good ride? It means the world to me that you're still sticking around!

Awkay, because I have a feeling that you'd very much like to get on with the story… Let's go! I really hope that you'll enjoy.

* * *

A Fixed Point

* * *

The Doctor's hearts admittedly faltered for several beats when the explosion like gunshot pierced through the air. The bullet whistled right past his cell phone, causing him to drop the item. His gaze moved swiftly, determined to identify the threat.

"Put the bloody gun down! He's not the enemy!" DI Gregory Lestrade's comfortingly familiar voice barked. "Who gave you the permission to carry a firearm?"

A wide grin, fueled by an intense amount of relief, took over the Doctor's face. All the adrenaline coursing through his system was making him feel a bit dizzy. "Blimey! Am I glad to see you!" he admitted in a breath. "What took you so long?"

"It wasn't exactly easy to explain this type of a threat to my bosses", Greg explained dryly. The man seemed exhausted and frustrated but also more than a little excited. The thrill of a chase can do miracles. "It was also tricky to explain why I needed such a big number of men with me."

"I can imagine", the Doctor mused.

Greg didn't didn't seem to hear. "I've got another, larger team in their base. It's joining a team from… Torchwood, wasn't it? They're currently taking over the situation. Several _Dansheés_ have already been taken under custody."

The Doctor felt a flood of relief. "Good." Maybe he'd changed things enough and that fixed point wouldn't be so set in stone, after all. Maybe no one else would have to die today.

"What are you doing?" The police officer who interrogated him what felt like ages ago – Donovan, wasn't it? – looked at Greg with very open disbelief. "Sir, he's a suspect! We can't give him…"

"With all due respect…", the Doctor began, hoping that he'd sounded a little more sincere. "This is an… alien… thingy threatening to boil over. And I happen to be an alien that's on your side."

Greg winced, just a little, and Sally's eyebrow arched. She most certainly didn't seem convinced. "'Alien thingy'?"

The Doctor groaned with frustration. "You humans can be so…!" He sighed heavily. "Look… Feel free to arrest me when this is all over and done with but right now we have bring an end to this."

Sally seemed incredibly frustrated. Her left eyebrow was twitching violently. "End to _what_?"

"To a group of extra terrestrial terrorists trying to claim Earth theirs." Greg shrugged upon meeting Sally Donovan's incredulous look. "You don't know what I've seen today. I'm starting to get ready to believe in Santa Claus."

The Doctor opened his mouth, ready to comment, then snapped it closed. No time for that. "So…", he stated cheerily instead. "Let's move it, shall we?"

* * *

John didn't know how long he'd been staring at the bizarre wall, nearly mesmerized. Certain that he'd just heard Sherlock and Mary although he knew that it was impossible. Then he sensed that what he really should've been focusing on wasn't in front of him. His eyes narrowed and a low, threatening growl crawled out.

Yes, he was armed. But his not quite human instincts were taking over with a dizzying force. The transformation was fast in progress before he could even think about another option.

* * *

On the other side Sherlock stared, one part fascinated and one part terrified, how his blogger began to change right before his eyes. With an impressive amount of speed a thick, black fur shot out, taking over all of the smaller man. Next came the changes in bone structure. They seemed extremely painful and based on the howl that John emitted they did hurt. It seemed to take ages although no more than a few moments passed. And then the person on the other side of the wall was most definitely not his best friend.

The _Dansheés_ were fast but John was faster. They spun around each other like furred hurricanes, emitting noises that would've chilled anyone's blood. The attacks were vicious and it was impossible to distinguish every move.

John did tell him that he had bad days, back in the day, but Sherlock could've never imagined that they were something like this.

There were wounds. Each drop of blood that appeared made Sherlock want to smash the wall with his own bare hands. But as it was all he could do was watch. It, however, seemed that John was more than able to stand his ground. At least for the time being.

And then the sound of two gunshots, coming from right behind him, ripped Sherlock's attention to the space he occupied. He spun around as quickly as he could to discover that Irene had just taken down two _Dansheés_.

There was a grim look on the woman's face. "They've got a hunch of us, now. They know that Mary's in labour. We have to go."

Sherlock nodded sharply. "Take her away. Right now."

Mary's eyes narrowed while she hissed under a yet another contraction. "I'm… not leaving my… husband."

"So you'd rather risk having to give birth here? In the middle of _this_?" Sherlock gritted his teeth. "You wouldn't do that to John."

Hearing his name seemed to kill some of the reckless fight in Mary. She appeared borderline furious but seemed to accept what was inevitable. "Find him", the former assassin commanded. "You'll protect him?"

Sherlock nodded. He made a vow ages ago, after all. "Obviously."

It took all his willpower but he kept himself from turning back around until the women had left safely. He took a deep breath, then spun around to see what was going on with John. What he saw… wasn't what he'd expected.

John was back in his human form, Sherlock barely managed to register that stark naked. Still alive and standing but injured. There were visibly deep bleeding gashes on the man's arms and side, as well as bruises on his face. But he wasn't down and he'd put up a fight. One of the _Dansheés_ was nowhere to be seen, another lay on the floor heavily unconscious and John had a gun firmly trained on the third. Never before had there been such dark flames in the soldier's eyes.

"You… killed my sister", John growled in a deep voice that threatened death. "I can smell her on you. You slaughtered her." For a little while tears were visible but the smaller man blinked them away quickly. "You can't… You can't even imagine how tempting it would be to pull the trigger and end you. Just like you ended her." John's jawline tightened immensely. "She screamed to a point where her throat was damaged. Did you know that? Screamed, begged, pleaded." This time the tears overflowed. The Brit didn't seem to notice. "I should kill you. You'd deserve as much for what you did to her. But Harry… She wouldn't want that." John gulped loudly, the hand holding the gun lowering. "She always wanted to see the best in people, no matter how deep she sunk. She got her heart smashed time and time again that way but she did. It was a big part of her problem."

Sherlock also swallowed thickly. It was fortunate that he didn't notice how badly his own eyes stung. A shiver crossed him. _In that case you two have more in common than you realize_, he mused.

Slowly, slowly John holstered the gun. That chilling flame didn't quite leave his eyes but lessened. "So… As much I'd want to… Killing you now would be spitting at her grave. That's the only reason you'll be leaving this room alive. Never, ever forget that." John lifted his chin and breathed hard, twice. "Thank Harriet Watson for the fact that you're still alive." With that the doctor left the room, leaving both the injured _Dansheé_ and Sherlock staring at his retreating back with stun.

* * *

Ianto could still remember the little girl his sister once was. Happy. Kind. Carefee. Not the soldier that now reached for his face and swung a vicious fist, hard. "YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE MY BROTHER!"

Ianto inhaled, trying to hide and ignore how much the accusation hurt. "And I still am", he stated. "That's why I'm willing to do anything that's under my power to make sure that you make it through this alive."

Cadi's eyes narrowed. "I'd rather die…", she hissed. "… than see my own species being reduced to a target of scientific experiments. Something to be locked out of sight and tortured."

Ianto sighed. "Well, I'm sorry to hear that." He was grateful that she was too caught up by her emotions to realize that he was constantly sneaking closer. "Because I meant what I said. I'm willing to do anything to make sure that you make it through alive."

Cadi's eyes widened a fraction, filled with hurt and shock as realization dawned. One of her hands twitched but he'd been prepared from the start. He was faster. The tazer hit her neck before she could exhale his name.

When her unconscious weight slumped against him Ianto closed his eyes and bowed his eyes. Held on tight. "I'm sorry", he whispered. _For this. For taking too long._ "I'm so sorry."

* * *

Upon leaving the room John was trembling so badly that it was a small miracle he didn't simply fall down. The soldier in him, however, remained firm. He didn't pause until there was a familiar woman blocking his path.

Anthea gave his naked form a lingering look, one delicate eyebrow arched. There was a small, satisfied smirk on her face when she focused on his eyes. It wasn't until then he realized that she was offering him a pile of clothes. "Courtesy to Ianto Jones." Seeing his surprise she shrugged. "Mycroft Holmes isn't my only employee." She gave him another long glance. "Normally I wouldn't rush you but we've still got our hands a bit full."

Feeling a hint of heat on his cheeks John obeyed hastily, pulling on the all black attire. It fit perfectly. He wasted a thought on wondering how in the world his size had been guessed so accurately.

"Oh yes, and I thought you'd like to know… Mary made it out of the building safely. As far as I could tell there wasn't a scratch on her."

"Thanks", John managed. Relief made his knees go weak. Or maybe it was the injuries. In any case he was glad that he had something else to focus on than the fact that he just confronted his sister's killer. "And Sherlock?"

Anthea's smile changed to a softer one. "What? You honestly imagine that he'd be more than a couple of steps away?"

As though on cue just then Sherlock emerged from the shadows. A sharp pair of eyes examined John, without a doubt cataloguing every single wound. "Are you alright?"

John nodded, unable to restrain a grin. "Yes, of course. 'Can't wait for this to be over, though." He then frowned, pleased that he couldn't pinpoint any obvious injuries on his friend. But then again this was Sherlock, a man who could most likely hide ten broken bones if he wanted to. "You?"

Sherlock's expression became dry. "I'm not the one who has several deep, bleeding wounds that are most likely infected", the man pointed out. For once the great detective wasn't able to quite hide his sentiment. There was such an amount of worry in his eyes that it would've melted even the stoniest of hearts.

John would've wanted to say anything, preferably something reassuring and profound. But as it was Anthea interrupted him. "We have to go", she announced, moving her hand away from her ear piece. There was new tension on her face. "We have… a situation."

* * *

'A situation', as it turned out, was quite an interesting way of describing what was going on in the massive room where everyone seemed to end up.

Most of the _Dansheés_ had, apparently, been taken under custody already. The few there were left had gathered into the room, their guns ready and held high up. Opposing them were Greg's men and the group that John had activated. They wore Torchwood uniforms but who knew who they really worked for. Most of them were John's kind. Some were _Dansheés_. The rest were humans. Every single one of them was determined to take care of this threat together. Despite the differences in their DNA they stood there together, firm and united.

Had everything been a little less hazardous it might've been touching.

The Doctor, who'd been standing beside the united troupes, looked to side upon hearing steps. He grinned, if not a little tensely, at the sight of familiar faces. "Good to see you." He then frowned at John's injuries but didn't say a word.

John and Sherlock returned the greeting with stiff nods, after which they all focused on the grim situation at hand.

"Put… down… the guns!" Greg commanded. Sounding like it wasn't his first attempt. "We can finish this peacefully but I need you to put down the guns."

"Oh? So you can take us to secret laboratories? Hide us out of sight like the last time? Deny our existence?" Everyone looked towards the room's main entrance to see Cadi who'd been handcuffed securely. Ianto stood behind her and it was hard to tell which sibling appeared more solemn. "Well… If we have to die today… We won't fade away silently. Not this time." She nodded towards the room's ceiling. "See that camera, up there?"

They all did. The shadows didn't quite manage to disguise it. Especially when there was a red light blinking.

"It's recording everything that happens in this room", Cadi informed them. "And broadcasting it to the entire world. As from today everyone will know about _Dansheés_. They'll know that we refuse to be pushed down any longer."

"So it's to destroy or be destroyed?" The Doctor's eyes flashed, both compassion and rage rising. "You know better than imagining that those are the only two options left. That attitude… It already destroyed your home planet. Don't make the same mistake again." He gritted his teeth. "Humans… They failed you once. But they deserve a second chance, just like you do."

"So what are you suggesting? Turning against our own? Giving up the fight over our new home?" the woman sneered. She took a step closer, ignoring how both fronts tightened their hold on all the weapons at hand. "After everything we've lost… After everything we've been put through… We'd join _them_ and give up the fight like my brother and his allies did?"

"You still don't get it, do you?" The Doctor chuckled breathlessly. "They're not betraying anyone or giving up. They've learned the most important lesson of all." There was a small smile on the Doctor's lips. Sad, proud, relieved and a touch manic all at once. "In this world… a species doesn't survive entirely on its own. I've seen a lot of them fall because they've refused to get that one… simple… thing. Including my own."

"It's time to stop punishing this world over something that happened decades ago", Ianto pointed out. His eyes were suddenly every bit as old as he really was. He might've sounded kind and gentle without the gun in his firm, steady hold. "Join us. Prove that we can be better than those who came before us. And you may stand a chance."

That grim suggestion echoed in the air while the two fronts, a newfound still shaky union and a small pack that was stubbornly trying to keep standing on its own despite the world threatening to crush it, stared at one another.

In the end Cadi's response came. Her eyes seemed threatening despite the fact that her wrists were cuffed. "You may be my brother", she growled under her breath. "But you threaten me… and you threaten all of us."

Clicks of guns could be heard. Some from her allies they could see. Several of them from the shadows. And all of a sudden they had no idea just how many of them they were up against. The tension from before intensified, because suffocating. It was resolved by the perhaps most unexpected thing of all.

All of a sudden hesitant steps entered the room. Their gazes whipping to side they saw a tiny girl who couldn't be older than six. Her incredibly blue eyes were full of nearly animalistic terror as they peered from underneath a disheveled bush of dark brown hair. "Mommy?"

Cadi's eyes filled with a similar fear. At that very moment she was no longer the stone hard, emotionless leader of her miniature army. "Ianna, get away from here! Right now!"

But all the little girl saw was the guns. Pointed at her mother. Clearly she had no intention of running away. "Mommy!" she cried out again, even more desperately this time. Then she was already running.

And the fixed point was seconds away from being sealed.

The Doctor watched, every single muscle in his body tensing up and ache swelling in both of his hearts, how the events began to play out. All too aware that there was fairly little he could do to stop it. Entirely too throughoutly aware of the consequences.

Ianto held his sister while she howled out, a furious amount of terror shining in her eyes. Ianto knew that even a single movement from Cadi would've led to bullets flying. What he didn't notice was that someone else was also about to move.

Seeing John's leg twitch the Doctor couldn't hold himself back any longer. Couldn't just stand by and let it happen. "Wait!"

His scream, a desperate plea, was met by the sharp sound of a gunshot. Everything in the room froze, including the Doctor himself. For a second, perhaps two, he had the time to wonder why everyone was looking at him with bizarre, shocked expressions. That was until he looked down to see a small yet deadly steady trail of blood running down his chest. His eyes widened, just a little bit, as a very unpleasant spinning took over his head. "Ah…"

A flash later he was already on his way down. He honestly couldn't help it. His knees simply buckled, as though all strength had been stolen from him.

His line of vision began to fail him. But still he was able to distinguish how John began to move, the steel hard determination of a soldier on his face. Sherlock's hand reached out fiercely but it wasn't enough to stop his friend.

_Wait…!_

Someone obviously took John's intentions the wrong way, especially when the soldier had forgotten to drop his gun. The last thing the Doctor heard before all his senses shut down was another gunshot, followed by a cacophony of screams and shouts. The fixed point clicked to a place.

The Doctor sunk in the dark with a single tear rolling down his cheek.

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Oh gosh…! (gasps) So… Were the events altered enough? Or did the fixed point indeed click to a place? Will all the good guys make it through this alive?

Thoughts? Such that you'd like to share. There's a box down below calling out to those.

Until next time, ya guys! I really hope that you'll all join in then. Only about three more chapters to go!

Take care!


	9. The Fate of a Hero…

A/N: DANG, I almost missed a Sunday update! But here I am. (grins)

First, though… THANK YOU, a thousand times over, for your reviews, listing and support! You can't even imagine how much it means to me, especially now that this story's been recently resurrected.

Awkay, because I know what you'd REALLY like to read… Let's go! I really hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

* * *

The Fate of a Hero…

* * *

The whole huge room held its breath, frozen by shock. Except for two people. Staring at the Doctor's prone, bloodied form and watching another person getting shot Cadi's daughter began to scream, tears of sheer terror and grief filling her eyes. And Sherlock was running.

"HOLD THE GODDAMNED FIRE!" Greg roared in a tense, pained voice, the sound somehow managing to get through to the shocked, armed group.

Sherlock, in full honesty, wouldn't have even noticed if there'd been a hail of bullets. All he saw was John who was still somehow standing. The former soldier's eyes were hazy and bleary when he dashed to his friend, his trademark coat billowing furiously behind him. The detective frowned, his hands twitching but not quite daring to reach out. "John?"

John blinked once, twice, that horrible haze not fading from his eyes for even a second. Slowly yet inevitably understanding seemed to dawn in their depths. The man swallowed hard. "I… I don't wa…" As it turned out those words sucked the last of the strength John had left.

Sherlock wasn't aware of the fact that he screamed when John's eyes closed and the smaller man began to fall towards the floor. Moving as fast as he possibly could he caught his friend, held on tight while his eyes scanned frantically to pinpoint the wound. It took entirely too long before he finally spotted the constantly growing moist spot on John's black shirt. It was located nearby the stomach area. Instantly his brain shot out a list of all the vital organs that might've been damaged. It took all of Sherlock's willpower to tune out the list. Instead he removed his scarf and slammed it as hard as he could to the wound, pressing down with all his might. Through it all John didn't even twitch in his arms and it sent a flood of ice through him.

John wasn't supposed to be this still, this lifel…

_Rage_. A new emotion. Similar to what came over him when he found Mrs. Hudson, beaten and held captive by those two idiots.

It was fortunate, really, that Sherlock was oblivious to the tears that shone in his eyes when he looked up, finally remembering the mass of people gathered around him. They were all staring at the devastation with wide eyes. The fury swell, mixing effortlessly with the constantly growing amount of sheer terror. "Make yourselves useful and call for an ambulance!" he snarled.

"It's… It's already on the way", Greg announced, appearing pale and shaky. The DI was still holding a gun at the remaining _Dansheés_ but his eyes kept flickering towards John. "They'll be here soon." They could only hope that it was soon enough.

Sherlock's gaze kept moving. Finally locking on a painfully young, petrified looking _Dansheé_ boy. The lad couldn't be eighteen yet there was a gun in his trembling hand. A gun that mere minutes ago fired a bullet at John. Tears were streaming down the youths face.

"Are you seeing this?" Sherlock hissed. "Do you see what you've done?! He was… He was only trying to help!" That was John's only crime and now…

The _Dansheé_, still a child really, sobbed. "I'm sorry…! I didn't… I didn't mean…"

"It doesn't matter what you meant!" Sherlock growled. His tears, of which he was still unaware, shone in the room's light. He glared at all the _Dansheés_. "John… His name is Dr. John Hamish Watson. And today… Today he let the monster that killed his sister live because that is who he is! And this… _This_ is what he gets as a reward for his compassion?" He gasped, for he refused to call it a sob, feeling oddly choked. "Is this the kind of a world you want to leave your children with? Is this what you want to teach them? WHAT ARE YOU?"

For a couple of seconds everything was still. Then, one by one, the guns began to clatter to the floor. Starting from the still crying young alien that shot John. Until eventually all firearms were down. Several of them ending up stained by the blood of the two more lives that might be lost as a sacrifice for peace.

With the sounds of Cadi's daughter's loud, heart wrenching sobs time resumed.

* * *

Donna was by no means an athletic person. But as soon as a group of policemen appeared to where she was hiding with the remaining kids, announcing that it was finally over, she was running. Putting all the adrenaline surging in her veins to good use. Some sixth sense was telling her to hurry up before it was too late.

It certainly wasn't hard to pinpoint the scene of action. All she had to do was follow the sirens. Which was precisely what she did, all the way until the sight she met made her freeze to the spot. Her eyes widened and a gasp escaped her.

Yes, it was definitely all over. Yard's finest were leading people she could safely assume to be _Dansheés_ out of the former school, grim expression plastered on each of their faces. One of them was carrying a hopelessly crying little girl. Donna saw a lot of people, really. But not the one she was hoping to see the most.

"Doctor?" she called out towards the crowd, ignoring how hopeless it was.

Of course there was no other response from the entire universe but a few passers by looking at her funnily. Donna didn't even notice. Instead she found herself running once more.

Well, if there was one thing she'd learned from the Doctor…

She dashed into the building, following some voice within and a flurry of activity towards the building's main hall. As soon as she made it there she froze. Completely. Without her even noticing it some tears appeared to her eyes.

There a man with brown hair and intense blue eyes was tending to a prone figure that lay completely motionless on the floor. The grim look on the stranger's face and the sickening amount of blood spoke more than enough. Donna's eyes, however, focused on the injured person.

A familiar bush of impossible hair. A very, very familiar long, brown coat. Converse shoes. That stillness, though… There was nothing familiar to it.

_What have you done…?!_

"Are you still with me?" It took a moment before she realized that the man trying to help the Doctor spoke to her. "I've already called for some help, but… In the meantime I need you." For a moment those eyes flickered towards her. "You know him, don't you?"

Somehow the man's voice was all it took for Donna to snap out of it and into action. She nodded fiercely, then dashed to the injured spaceman's side. "Yeah, yeah", she announced firmly. "I know him." Well, about as well as any human being could.

Something about her expression seemed to cause a spark of understanding. "You're Donna, aren't you?" the stranger inquired, his voice smooth with a clearly audible Welsh accent. Although the man's gaze didn't stray from his patient she could've sworn that he was looking at her. "His companion?"

Donna felt a flash of alarm and questions. At the moment, though, her head was too full of other worries to allow concern over such matters. "Yeah." She grasped one of the limp hands, silently pleading him to squeeze back. Nothing happened. She swallowed hard, unable to get rid of the bitter taste. "What… What the bloody hell happened?"

The stranger inhaled a deep breath. Some sadness appearing to his eyes. "He was one of the few who tried to do the right thing."

Donna's hold on the Doctor's hand tightened. She hoped that he knew he wasn't alone. "Sounds like something the bloody moron would do." If her voice broke a little, somewhere along the way, she decided that it didn't matter.

They remained in absolute silence for a few moments, both focusing on not trying to notice how uneven and laborious the Time Lord's breaths were becoming. Both attempting to cling to the desperate hope. One keeping a hold of his hand, the other squeezing at the wound that refused to stop bleeding.

"He'll be alright", Donna announced at last. Not bearing the crushing silence anymore. She would've wiped her eyes if she'd dared to let go of him. "I've… I've seen, what he's able to do. He'll be alright." She wasn't going to let him give up now! He was too stubborn for that.

Her companion didn't answer, instead pressed harder at the wound. The Doctor didn't react in any way although the assault should've hurt immensely. That was when they heard approaching steps and looked up at the exact same time. Hope, the genuine kind, rose in Donna's chest when she recognized the familiar face running along a pair of paramedics. They tried to smile at each other but both failed miserably.

Martha Jones' face was a picture of steel hard resolve. "Okay. Let's get him out of here."

* * *

The evening was already darkening when a set of steps approached a heavily guarded cell at the heart of London. The video feed from the fateful room had been cut off as fast as possible but the countless of copies of the encounter that remained spread like wildfire. Soon the whole world would know about the threat that'd been locked up into the cell. Of the threat that'd been neutralized at a terrible price.

Cadi lifted her head to see Ianto stood behind the bars, this time wearing his customary suit. Her jawline tightened while she fought to decide what she wanted to say to him. "Where's my daughter?" she demanded.

"She's still in a shock. But as soon as she recovers there's a couple that's offered to give her a home. A _Dansheé_ couple." There was something unreadable in Ianto's eyes. "I made sure that the people in charge didn't repeat past mistakes."

Cadi nodded slowly and looked away. A massive amount of pain and relief swell inside her simultaneously. A hellish burning took over her eyes but she blinked it away forcefully. "Am I…?" She cleared her throat when her voice broke. "Am I ever going to see her again?"

Ianto was quiet for a very long time. "You've taken a lot of innocent lives. You and your allies have made international threats of yourselves." They both knew what that meant even without it being said. She'd never walk free again.

Not while she was still alive.

The enstranged siblings lingered in a thoughtful silence, somehow managing to draw comfort from each other in those entirely too brief moments. Both lingering in the days past rather than trying to imagine the future ahead. Their fingers twitched but in the end they didn't reach out for each other through the bars. It was only partially because of the guards lingering nearby.

"They know, now", Cadi pointed out, careful to keep her voice quiet enough. "About our kind. And they'll…"

Ianto stopped her with shaking his head. "No, they won't. Tomorrow morning the newspapers will state that the New Scotland Yard took down a terrorist cell. A group of violent humans, that's all the _Dansheés_ will be."

Cadi scoffed, her heart thudding hard with ache, disappointment, fury and disbelief. "So… That's it? Those who died today… They died for nothing?" Her tone was a lot more bitter than she'd intended.

Ianto shook his head, sadness loud and clear in his eyes. "No. They died so that what's still left of the _Dansheés_ and a lot of people would get to live. Including you and your daughter."

Cadi's eyes narrowed. A growl that caught the attention of a guard slipped through her lips. "My life isn't yours to save anymore", she snarled.

All of a sudden, for just a shimmer of a second, she could've sworn that she saw the little boy she used to call her brother. Ianto gave her the kind of a small, slightly sad smile she knew very well. "I'll never give up on you."

Cadi didn't know what to say to that. Instead she inhaled, looking into his eyes for what they knew to be the last time. "Goodbye, Jaunos. Take care of yourself and my girl."

"I will." Ianto gave her a one more, lingering look. "Goodbye, Aime." With those words he turned around and walked away without looking back.

Somehow they both knew that she wouldn't live until the next sunrise.

* * *

The first thing that John became aware of was a very familiar desert wind caressing his face. He frowned and tried to open his eyes, only to find that his eyelids were too heavy. The smell filling his mind was full of sand, foreign spices and distant gunpowder.

How was he back in Afganistan…?

Strange, unfamiliar voices drifted to his ears. Sounding jumbled and static. "… blood pressure keeps dropping…"

"…losing him…"

Dying…? Was that why he felt so tired, so out of focus? He was…

His heart jumped with sheer terror. Or perhaps something else entirely. A shrill sound filled his ears. His confused mind mistook a flatlining heart monitor for an approaching bomb. Pain exploded everywhere inside him and he would've screamed if he could've.

He… He couldn't go, not like this…! Because… He was starting to remember. Mary… Their baby… Sherlock… He couldn't, not yet…

There was another explosion of pain and absolutely all of him screamed although he couldn't produce a sound. He was begging, pleading, banging against whatever it was locking him to this nightmare. For the second time in his life John sent out a prayer to who or whatever was listening.

_Please, god, let me live…!_

* * *

Not very far away, completely unaware of John's fight, Mary was going through a war of her own. Alone, as she'd done most things during her life. Not that she would've even paid much attention to it at the moment.

That baby was going to bloody kill her before it was out!

"Get… it… out of me!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, throwing her head back. "Get that thing out of me!"

This was wrong, wrong, _wrong_! John was supposed to be here, holding her hand. Where the hell was John?

The midwife couldn't quite stiffle a chuckle. "I'm sorry, Mary. But I'm afraid that it's your job to finish this." The woman was smart enough to check her progress and speak before Mary had the time to throw in a comment of her own. "Only a couple of more pushes, now. You're doing great."

Surprisingly enough those words did encourage Mary, just a little bit. Half subconsciously she summoned a picture of John to her mind. And then, with absolutely all there was left in her, howled as she pushed.

It hurt, even if it wasn't the most painful thing she'd ever gone through. Hurt like hell. At one point she was sure that she'd collapse. But then, so suddenly that she actually gasped, the agony and pressure were gone. Instead there was a new and shrill, demanding cry that seemed to fill all of the room and her.

The midwife smiled brightly. "Congratulations, Mary. You have a very beautiful, healthy baby girl."

Mary was unaware of the tears of joy that rolled down her cheeks.

* * *

"_…you dare try and leave me! You've still got one heart going, you hear me? And I'm going to keep it that way!_"

Martha's voice, which had been uncomfortably loud at first, began to fade away as the Doctor's consciousness dimmed. There was a beat or two of nothing but darkness. And then… Then he opened his eyes to see a stunningly blue sky. Pleasantly warm air brushed his face and the grass was comfortably soft underneath him. Everything felt so perfect that it was ridiculous.

"Doctor?" That voice… That impossibly familiar voice… He turned his head slowly, as though fearing that what he hoped to see wouldn't be there, to discover the smiling face of Rose Tyler. "Morning, sleepy head. You fell asleep on me." She then became a lot more serious. "What were you dreaming about? You were frowning and groaning."

The Doctor swallowed and focused on the sky for a moment, trying to overcome a bout of dizziness and nausea. "I… had a weird, unpleasant dream."

Rose nodded, still worried but smiling. "Well. You're awake, now."

"Yeah", he breathed out. He took her hand and held on tight. Ignoring the tiny and constantly weakening voice in the back of his head trying to tell him that something was wrong. And grinned. "I know." He was finally awake. Wasn't he?

* * *

Under different circumstances the chaos in the hospital's waiting room might've been amusing. Or perhaps touching. As the seemingly endless night wore on more and more people gathered in. Total strangers, pulled together by the day's near disaster.

At first it was just Greg and Donna, sitting right next to each other although there would've been plenty of space. Even without words or touches, despite the fact that they'd only just met, drawing comfort from one another. After a few hours a man who introduced himself as Ianto Jones joined them, bringing much appreciated coffee. At the moment they paid very little mind to how he could possibly know what kind they'd like. Perhaps _Dansheés_ had telepathic abilities. Molly Hooper entered soon after, looking suspiciously lot like she'd been crying. After only a few words of greeting and introductions she slumped to the chair on Greg's other side, took his hand and refused to let go.

Eventually Mycroft Holmes appeared, his expression as difficult to name as always. Along him the man dragged Sherlock, who appeared pale, angry, shell shocked, desperate and so very, very human that it nearly succeeded in scaring Greg. They all noticed that he'd forgotten to change his clothes. John's blood still stained, or perhaps rather caked, them. "Well?" the detective barked.

It took a while before they understood what he meant. "No news yet, on either of them", Donna announced. Her voice sounded hoarse and almost pained, a shadow of its usual.

Seeing the new tension that appeared on the younger Brit Greg added his own input. "Maybe that's a good thing. They've been fighting for this long…"

If looks could kill the one Sherlock aimed at him would've taken him down instantly.

Mycroft emitted a suffering sigh. "Behave, brother dear, or I'll have you removed." No one had the heart to point out that the older brother didn't leave and, apart from a highly expected growl, Sherlock made no protests.

Those of them who'd known the two were surprised when out of the blue Philip Anderson and Sally Donovan entered the room, taking seat a bit further from the rest of the group. Appearing hesitant and signs of discomfort clearly visible to them all but obviously determined to be there. And they weren't alone.

The moment Mrs. Hudson came in she made her way to Sherlock and wrapped her arms stunningly tightly around the detective. Was that a sob that came along with a heavy sigh? "Oh, Sherlock…!"

For a second or two Sherlock remained completely frozen until the man's arms circled slowly around the old woman, providing what looked like a very, very awkward hug. Apparently Mrs. Hudson appreciated the gesture. She tightened her grasp to an extend where the usually cool and composed man seemed to be having difficulties with breathing.

As soon as the hug was finished and they were both sitting down, Mrs. Hudson's hand clasping Sherlock's determinedly, the detective glared at her two escorts. "What do you think you're doing here?" he snarked.

They exchanged a look before focusing on him. "We… know that we've made… mistakes", Sally admitted in a barely recognizeable voice. "But… We want to make sure that John will be alright. We owe him that much."

_And a lot more_, Sherlock's intensifying glare spoke but miraculously the man said nothing.

"Internet… It's gone crazy about the clips of…" Philip was, at least, smart enough to not voice the rest. "Thousands of people have already been commenting, praising the pair of them. What they did, or at least tried to do… They're heroes."

"They're not heroes", Sherlock and Donna denied almost simultaneously. Heroes? No. Something more than that.

The others frowned. They seemed confused and displeased. "Then what would you call them?" Greg asked.

Donna and Sherlock looked at each other for a moment. Then came to a silent agreement. "They're exceptional", Sherlock concluded. And if his voice held a great deal of sentiment no one pointed it out.

The seemingly endless wait continued. Until finally, just when they were starting to doze off from the exhaustion of the horrible day, their fatigued eyes caught something that snapped them to attention. Martha and another doctor whose name none of them had bothered to memorize approached the room. The looks on their faces promised nothing good.

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Uhm… Why do I feel like I should start looking for a place to hide…? Those poor things!

Soooo… Thoughts? Comments? Feel free to drop your rants to the box down below. (smirks sheepishly)

Until next time, ya all! I really hope that I'll see you all there. ONLY TWO TO THREE MORE TO GO!

Take care!


	10. … Is to Fall

A/N: DANG! It took waaaaaaaaay long than I expected to update. (winces) I'm so, so sorry! There were some plot-things that I HAD TO decide on before I could continue and then schedules got in the way. I'm so sorry!

I've already kept you waiting for too long BUT...! THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for all the review and love! You're the ones keeping this story going. Thank you for that!

Awkay, because I just don't have the heart to keep stalling any longer... Let's go! I really hope that this turns out worth the wait.

* * *

… Is to Fall

* * *

The Doctor was almost sure that he and Rose lay on grass. Until all of a sudden he opened his eyes to discover that they were standing on a beach instead. On a beach that he knew entirely too well. The serenity and happiness from before disappeared, changing into suffocating dread.

Bad Wolf Bay.

He frowned and looked at Rose, his hold on her hand tightening considerably. "Rose? What…?" He didn't have enough breath to finish the question. Most likely because a part of him already knew and didn't want to hear.

Rose's eyes were full of grief when they met his. "Of course you know already. This is all inside your head. This, all of this… It's nothing but a trick of your imagination." She gestured towards her face. "Do you see that birthmark on my cheek? The real Rose doesn't have a similar. And the color of her eyes… You got it just a little bit wrong."

The Doctor looked away, focusing on the seemingly endless waves while breathing hard. Each inhale hurt immensely and it took all he had to keep breathing. His eyes stung, his line of vision blurring slightly. "Why would I imagine this place?" he spat out with far more venom and bitterness than he'd expected.

That bay… It was the symbol of one of his most bitter losses. Why would his mind have chosen that of all places…?

"Maybe this is the only place where you can let go", Rose suggested quietly. She wiped her eyes, his subconscious mirroring his grief on her. "Because you need to wake up, now."

He gritted his teeth, tightening his grip still. Her hand… It felt so real, warm and soft. "What if I don't want to?"

Rose shook her head. The tears were flowing freely down her pale cheeks. "Now's not the time to give up. Because… Because even if you'll lose her there are many people you're still meant to travel with." She nodded towards the dark water.

With uncharacteristic hesitation the Doctor focused on the same direction. Instantly his eyes widened. "What…?"

Candles, what looked like hundrets of them, were floating towards the shore. Illuminating the darkness. As though showing a path. Each of them had a name.

Amelia. Rory. Clara. Melody. And many more.

"You're going to touch a lot more lives, whether you like it or not. With this face and others. They're waiting for you." The imaginary Rose was smiling bravely through her tears. "Your song hasn't ended yet."

The Doctor kept looking at the candles, mostly because he couldn't face the fact that the Rose beside him was already fading away. Along with everything else. The dream world was falling apart. Pain was beginning to tear at his body, with enough force to make him tremble. A sure sign of waking up.

"Whenever you wonder if it's worth it… If there's any point… Remember those lights. There are people waiting for you to show them theirs." There was a brief pause. The pressure on his hand was already almost gone when Rose spoke once more. "And because as a part of your subconscious I know that you're still worrying… Of course she knows."

The imaginary world collapsed with a single, impossibly painful gasp.

* * *

The TARDIS was humming sadly while Donna sat in her medical wing, firmly at the spot she'd only abandoned for a brief visit to the loo during the six hours she'd spent there. Martha kept dropping by often but the younger woman was busy with trying to keep her patient and his highly unusual sick bed hidden from the public. Especially when the world had gone crazy over the footage that leaked out after the fiasco that was containing the _Dansheés_. _Everyone_ wanted to know who the three heroes that ended the nightmare were and it was bad enough that the medical team that helped Martha knew. Especially when two out of those three were fighting for their lives. The mere idea of all those reporters finding the Doctor sickened Donna. They'd snatch pictures. And when they'd learn that he wasn't a human being…

Donna swallowed down the bitter taste sitting in her throat, focusing on her patient. Still unconscious. No surprise, there. The process of trying to fix the damage had been grueling, especially when there wasn't even close to enough medication that Martha's team would've dared to use. His body was exceptional but surely even he had his limits.

A shiver crossed Donna while she sighed. He was so very still and pale, just like the sheet wrapped around him. He seemed pained even while he was unconscious.

Donna gritted her teeth. _Keep it together, now, Noble! There's no use in whimpering and whining!_ "You do realize that I feel really stupid, talking to myself. Right?" Over the past few hours she'd talked so much that her voice was growing hoarse. She'd told everything to his unresponsive form. Embarrassing childhood tales, sins and secrets… She'd even tried cracking a couple of bad jokes. Nothing worked.

After another forty five minutes Donna was just about to doze off. It had, after all, been a incredibly long and exhausting day. But just as her eyes were closing, her hand relaxing on his still one, something happened. There was a loud, obviously uncomfortable breath. Followed by a twitch that went through his entire body. Was that a moan?

Donna honestly didn't know what was happening. She was just about to scream for Martha when all words froze into her throat. Because there was a pair of half open eyes looking at her. They were bleary and pained, full of agony and confusion. But they were open and aware.

Donna emitted a suspiciously moist, brief chuckle. "Well hello, there. Wasn't that a bit over-dramatic, even for you?" If her voice broke a little she didn't care.

The Doctor tried to smile but it looked more like a grimace. He still seemed more than a little out of it. "So this… is real?" He shifted a little and instantly groaned, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. "Yes, yes, definitely real…"

Donna frowned, feeling infuriatingly useless in the face of her friend's pain. "Just hold still, Spaceman. Take it easy for bloody once." She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, relieved beyond all words to feel pressure in return. So relieved that a lesser woman would've actually broken into tears. "You just basically took a bullet into one of your hearts."  
The word 'bullet' seemed to stir something inside the Doctor. His eyes widened and before Donna could do a thing to stop him he was struggling to sit up. Panting although it definitely hurt like hell, trembling, most likely close to popping his stitches and a bed of cold sweat on his forehead.

A slash of irritation and panic sped through Donna. "Oi! Where do you think you're going? You can't…!"

"John…", was all the Time Lord managed at first. Despair, agony and exhaustion all shining in his incredibly old eyes. "He was shot… I have to…" The words that came next were inaudible with his body unable to squeeze them out properly.

Donna gulped loudly. How in the world was she supposed to tell him this? How…? "Doctor." Her voice was so gentle and full of grief that it startled her a little. Or would've if she'd focused enough to notice. She wiped her cheeks, surprised to find them moist. "John… He's dying."

* * *

Before that long, nightmarish day Sherlock hadn't believed in hell. But he did now, with utmost certainty. Because he was in it.

He was well aware that it was only thanks to Mycroft that he'd been allowed into John's hospital room. But for once it didn't bother him. John needed him and that was worth swallowing some of his pride. The words that'd been told to him six hours, thirty-five minutes and forty-two seconds ago kept banging at his already aching head. Hammered it mercilessly.

/ _"… internal bleeding … too much damage … nothing … truly sorry …"_ /

That so-called doctor wasn't sorry. He'd been busy to get the chance to bang the nurse he was having an affair with. Sherlock, of course, pointed out as much out loud.

Because even if those idiots were giving up it didn't mean that Sherlock would. Because John… John hadn't given up on him, not even when the soldier should've. And so he sat there beside his friend, watched as the machines helped the smaller man breathe and monitored those frail vitals. Of course Sherlock could see that they were becoming worse and worse. It only made him fight that much harder.

Sherlock's eyes were fixed firmly on the injured man, no matter how much the sight hurt. He never even noticed that he was squeezing that soldier's hand like a lifeline. "Mary had the baby", he revealed, barely recognizing his own voice. "Your daughter is waiting for you. So this…" He cleared his throat and scoffed. "This is highly unacceptable. And you're the one always preaching about proper manners."

There was no reaction from John. Not a twitch. Not a smile. Nothing. And somehow that succeeded in being the most painful part of all.

John _always_ responded to him, especially when he needed the man. No matter how bitterly they'd fought. John wasn't supposed to leave him all alone.

Sherlock groaned and rubbed his face roughly. Blatantly ignoring how his eyes stung. "Just wake up already, why don't you?" He didn't care about the fact that sentiment was slipping into his tone. Perhaps it was what his friend needed to be convinced into coming back. He stared at the unconscious face, each second ticking by eating at his heart. "You always sleep too much. So just… Just stop it."

"Sherlock."

For a blink, just one, Sherlock dared to hope. His eyes widened for a microsecond before he realized that there was no way it could've been John's voice. Emitting a low, hazardous growl over being disturbed in such a private moment he turned his gaze towards the room's door. Stood there was Greg, appearing shaken and sad. It was obvious that the man had been crying not too long ago. And smoking heavily.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed. "What do you want?" he spat out. He'd never been one for manners, after all. Least of all now.

Greg blinked quickly. Too quickly. "Sherlock… John's doctor… She said that…" The DI gulped laboriously. "That it's only a matter of time, before John's heart gives out again. We have to tell Mary."

"NO!" Sherlock roared. With what might just be enough volume and despair to resurrect the dead. His whole body was beginning to shake but he didn't notice. He glared daggers at the DI. "We're not telling her… because John isn't going to die! We're not going to lose him! So don't you dare…!"

But then, as though mocking his heated words, the machines monitoring John came to life violently. Signaling a faltering heartbeat. A rapidly disappearing hope.

Sherlock's whole body froze as he sat there, staring at John with entirely too open shock, terror, disbelief and betrayal. While John's heart continued to falter his was racing. Way too much, all of it.

All of a sudden he understood, with intimate detail, how John had to feel watching him plunge towards the pavement.

Only, this wasn't fake. A clever plot to save lives. This was very much real. John's two steps hadn't taken him off a rooftop but he was still falling down just as horribly.

"JOHN!"

And then he wasn't alone at John's side anymore. Looking up with fury and startle he was surprised to realize that the Doctor had slumped to the edge of the bed. The alien must've been brought there with the help of both Donna and Martha because the women stood nearby, appearing sad, angry and worried all at once. The Doctor himself was a picture of resolve, despite the fact that he'd just come close to dying himself and appeared to be struggling with the simple task of sitting.

Sherlock breathed hard. His heart hammered while his eyes sharpened. "Help him." It came out a lot more desperately than he'd intended. With a great deal more heartbreak.

The Doctor nodded slowly. Appearing dizzy and exhausted but also resolute. "I will."

Despite himself Sherlock's eyes widened a fraction while he watched how a bizarre glow took over the alien's hands. Growing and seeming to fill the entire room. It was, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen.

"What are you doing?!" Donna cried out.

The Doctor smiled, just a little bit. His focus was solely on John whose heart was barely beating anymore. "It's a simple choice, really…", the space and time traveler murmured, clearly speaking mostly to himself. Slowly, slowly the alien laid his glowing hands to both sides of the soldier's head. "I'm sorry, John. But this may hurt a little."

Now, the Doctor never asked whether John was worth sacrificing one of his several lives. Because he already knew. He'd seen it. He had faith that John would make good use of the extra years, perhaps even decades, he'd been given.

The light grew and blossomed, pulsated almost like the heartbeat that the two of them shared for a brief moment. In the end that baffling amount of energy surged into John, filling the man's body that'd been fighting a losing battle. Settled in and made a home.

Instantly John's vitals improved. The heartbeat that'd nearly been lost yet again was there, stronger than ever. A pair of blue eyes flew open, full of shock and disbelief, to meet a pair of hazy brown ones. The two of them stared at each other for a long moment, completely forgetting about their dazed audience.

John couldn't speak with the tube still stuffed into his throat but the Doctor had no such limitations. The last of the Time Lords gave a small smile that was equal parts sad and reassuring. Then leaned close to John's ear and whispered something before pulling away once more.

It didn't require a lot of observational skills to realize that the Doctor was currently using the last of his strength. Martha swallowed, a tight knot forming in the pit of her stomach. "Doctor?"

"I'm fine." The alien seemed to try and catch his breath before focusing on her and Donna. "I, ah… need something, from the TARDIS. Could you…?"

Martha nodded, the alarm not fading even slightly. "Of course." She could actually feel how the man struggled to hold himself together when they eased him off the bed, helping him to his unsteady feet.

They'd made it to the room's door until Sherlock's voice interrupted them. "Doctor?" There was a storm of emotions of the detective's face. "Thank you."

The Doctor nodded. When it was certain that both Sherlock and Greg were fully focused on John they left the room. Just in time to avoid the doctors and nurses rushing in at the call Greg had the mind to make.

Somehow, impossibly, they made it to the TARDIS they'd left nearby the hospital. As soon as her doors closed the Doctor's knees buckled. With a stunning amount of grace he slumped to Donna's arms.

"Woah!" Donna gasped, her voice carrying a tremor of startle. "It's okay, it's okay. We've got you. You'll be fine, you hear me? It's okay." Despite her words she had to fight back tears. Some already rolled down Martha's cheeks. Together they helped him down, so that he could lean against the wall.

The Doctor himself had a eerie, sad little smile on his face while his hazy, moist eyes peered at them blearily. "…the best of times…" Squeezing out those words seemed to take all his determination. "Right?"

The two women could only nod. Donna took his hand and squeezed, as though the contact alone would've been enough to make him hold on. "Definitely, Spaceman."

The Doctor's smile widened, just a little, although it could've as easily been a grimace. "Thank you." His eyes then shifted towards Martha with some difficulty. A little more pain seeped into them. "And sorry."

Martha swallowed loudly. Then shook her head vehemently. "Nothing to be sorry for."

The Doctor didn't seem as convinced. But as it was he couldn't hold on any longer. He leaned a little more heavily against the wall and emitted a shuddering sigh.

"Doctor?" Donna called out, alarmed. His hold on her hand was beginning to grow slack. "Oh no, don't you dare…!"

But his eyes slipped closed and his fingers weren't squeezing back anymore.

"DOCTOR!"

* * *

TBC

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A/N: GOOOOOSH! I've gotta admit that I'm feeling a little breathless at the end of this. (gasps) How is this story going end? Is everyone going to make it through?

Thoughts? Comments? Threats...? PLEASE, do leave a note on the box below! Don't you just hear it calling...?

ONLY ONE MORE AND AN EPILOGUE TO GO!

Until next time, folks! I REALLY hope that you'll all join in for that one.

Take care!

* * *

**Julesss**: You have NO IDEA how happy I am to hear that you think so! (BEAMS) I really hope that you'll enjoy what's to come as much.

Colossal thank yous for the amazing review!

* * *

(And SPECIAL thank yous to **SaltiQuill**! Your review totally blew my mind in the BEST way.) (hugs)


	11. Knights Without Armours

A/N: Once again (winces) I'm so, so sorry about this delay! Again there were massive decisions that I had to make. Plus my head was… preoccupied several times over. But now I'm FINALLY back! Hooray…?

First, though… THANK YOU, so very, very much, for all your reviews, listings and love for this story! So many of you have stayed along through it all. So thank you!

Awkay, because I highly doubt that you're all that interested in my ramblings… Let's go! I really hope that this'll turn out worth the wait.

* * *

Knights Without Armours

* * *

Kitty Riley knew, all too well, that she'd made a lot of mistakes in her life. Falling under the spell of the so called Richard Brook, joining the force of nature that destroyed Sherlock Holmes piece by piece, was without a doubt one of the biggest. Some journalist she was, swallowing down a fake story like that. Helping the downfall of a good man. Perhaps not a pleasant man, but a good one, anyway.

But for once in her life she had the chance to fix her mistake.

And so, her fingers far from steady, Kitty began to type her story of the baffling day's events. Of how a highly dangerous terrorist group, one that claimed several lives, had been discovered and stopped. It'd been hiding carefully until… well, it wasn't. And she, of course, typed that once again the Hat Detective and his loyal blogger had been found from the centre of it. Along with a mystery man no one seemed able to name. She wrote, with as much detail as she could and hoping that she wasn't relying on her own imagination, how John took a bullet trying to save a life. And how Sherlock, in a moment where he would've had every opportunity to respond to fire with fire, triggered a different kind of change instead. She'd heard one of the police officers, Philip Anderson, describing those events with bafflement, wonder and a touch movement. Sherlock brought it all to a peaceful ending. For John.

After thinking about it for a moment Kitty decided that this time she'd include a small column, her own opinion, underneath the actual story. She wiped at her eyes and took a deep breath, then wrote the most honest words she'd ever uttered. She sealed it with another deep breath.

'_In times like these our world needs protectors more desperately than ever before. Sherlock Holmes is our own Dark Knight. Facing those the rest of us are too afraid to look at. Diving to the dark so that we won't have to. He strives doing so. And I'm sorry that I once doubted him._'

Kitty read her article once more. Then nodded to herself and sent it to her boss. A few moments later she lifted her head to see her reflection on a nearby mirror. She smiled at the sight of the Deer Stalker on her head.

* * *

The first minutes following John's awakening were full of chaos. Faces that seemed blurry at first but soon became clearer. Hands groping at him, forcing him to use all his willpower to not throw a punch. He'd barely overcome the physical and emotional shock over having the tube pulled from his throat before they were already asking questions.

Although, to their credit, they did have a fairly good reason to be so shocked. If John gathered what they were all trying to tell him correctly he'd been dying just some short minutes ago. And now… Now he was suddenly breathing on his own, wide awake and talking.

Well, 'trying' was, perhaps, the operative word there.

"Enough!" Sherlock's voice was filled with even more irritation than John's head. Was the detective… growling? "Don't you idiots see that you're overwhelming the patient? You've seen that he's awake and lucid. Now kindly get out." It didn't sound kind.

One of the nurses had the nerve to frown in protest. "Mr. Holmes… You need to understand…"

Sherlock's eyes narrowed. "I'm not wasting my time on listening to the instructions of someone still expecting their lover to leave their spouse after six years of an affair", the detective snarled. "Now stop exhausting the patient and leave. Unless you'd rather have this conversation with my brother." Things had to be horribly wrong if Sherlock was desperate enough to use the 'Mycroft card'. Now that John would've minded much, especially in his current condition.

The younger man's threat did the trick. The room cleared at a remarkable speed. Save Sherlock, of course.

As soon as he could be sure that the pests wouldn't come back Sherlock focused on John. There was a line of what could only be worry on the man's face. And those eyes held nothing short of panic. How… oddly touching. "Alright?"

John nodded slowly, still a little stunned that he actually could. "Yes, yes. Fine. Just…" He frowned, exploring his friend's face for answers. He found none. "Sherlock, what the bloody hell happened? I was…" He licked his lips and had to look away all of a sudden. The few memories he had… weren't strictly speaking pleasant. "I was shot. It should've…" _… killed me_, was something he could've never, ever voiced in front of the detective. He could never be that cruel. "How am I… here?" _Alive?_

Sherlock offered no reply. Instead the man stared at him almost wildly. As though not quite believing that he was there. Honestly, in those long moments John had no idea what was going through his friend's head. A pair of slightly widened, sharp eyes stared at him while the rest of the detective remained tense and frozen still.

"Uh… Sherlock?" John frowned again, waving a hand in front of his friend's face. No reaction. "Sherlock, you're starting to scare me a little."  
And then, completely without a warning, a pair of arms wrapped around him. John wondered, briefly, if Sherlock had ever hugged anyone willingly because the gesture was hard and uncomfortable at best. But it was very much real and clearly something that the detective needed, even if the man would've never, ever admitted as much out loud.

John gasped at the unexpected contact and remained frozen for a few moments until his body relaxed, slowly but steadily, to the embrace. Gently, as though afraid of breaking or disturbing something, John wrapped one arm around Sherlock, then another. And that was how they remained for a remarkably long moment, two British men trying hard not to show too many emotions.

_You almost died!_

_Yes, but I'm still here. I'm still alive. It's alright._

In the end Sherlock withdrew, doing a remarkably good job at looking like nothing had happened. John had to bite the inside of his lip to keep himself from chuckling.

That was around when John's head became clear enough to remember just what happened. "Mary… She's safe, right?" Where was she, anyway? He had a faint, feeble memory trace of Sherlock telling him that she'd already given birth. Was it all a dream? "And the Doctor… Was he really here? Is he alright? Did anyone else get injured?"

It was impossible to read Sherlock's expression. To see if the man was about to lie. "Mary should be here soon. And yes, the Doctor was just here and seemed fine to me. Now get some rest. This has all been tedious enough without you overexerting yourself."

For the second time since waking up John had to hide a smile. Thankfully he knew Sherlock well enough to read what the man was trying to say without it being voiced. So instead of pressing the matter and making things uncomfortable for both of them he shifted. That was when his attention was pulled towards the wound.

Perhaps it was macabre curiosity. But at that moment John just couldn't hold himself back. He shifted his hospital gown cautiously, revealing the bandaged wound on his stomach. Of course it was stupid, childish and at least highly unprofessional. But before he could stop himself he poked at the damaged spot softly with one finger. There was no explosion of pain, no matter how fresh the injury was. Barely even a jolt of pain. No amount of pain medication should've been that affective.

It was around then Sherlock, who'd lingered deep in thought or perhaps wandered around his Mind Palace, seemed to notice what he was doing. The man's eyebrows furrowed. "John, stop that."

But John was in no mood for listening. And before the detective could make a move John had grabbed the bandage and pulled at it. What John discovered made his eyes fly wide and his heartbeat spike up.

He'd seen gunshot wounds before. Bloody hell, he'd had one! But the sight facing him… It was nothing familiar. Perhaps it'd been a bullet hole, once. But at the moment all there was left was a some skin damage that'd scar but didn't reach very deep. It was the shape of a star, or perhaps a supernova.

John's eyes were still wide and full of demand when they met Sherlock's. "What the bloody hell happened to me? What did the Doctor do?"

* * *

The tension inside the TARDIS could've been cut by a knife as Martha checked the Doctor's vitals with badly shaking hands. Somewhow she even managed to pull out a tiny flashlight. Once she was done she unleashed a choked sound, wiping her eyes. "He's… He's unconscious. Deeply. I… I'm pretty sure that he's in a coma."

Donna nodded slowly. She appeared several degrees paler than usual. "Well how are we supposed to help him?"

Martha shook her head. Never in her life had she felt as helpless as she did right at that very moment. The infuriating burning sensation refused to leave her eyes. "I don't know, alright? I don't…" She took a deep, shaky breath. "I don't know enough about his anatomy to do much. We just… We have to wait. At this point it's all up ot him."

Fate, apparently, decided that things weren't quite badly wrong enough yet. Because all of a sudden the TARDIS was moving. "What the bloody…?!" Donna cried out.

Martha's eyes were wide as she looked around. Seeking an explanation that wasn't there. "I don't know. This… This must be an emergency protocol of some sort."

"Brilliant!" Donna scoffed. She leaned closer to the Doctor without noticing it, as though trying to shield him against an unknown threat. "Another thing the bloody idiot forgot to mention us."

It seemed to take foerver before they landed and throughout the flight they remained nearby the unconscious Time Lord. Protecting him, just in case, although they knew that the TARDIS was also doing everything she could to help him. It wasn't until the journey ended and the women emitted a collective sigh of relief they realized that they'd been holdings their breaths.

Neither wanted to step away from the Doctor for too long but they knew that they'd have to find out where they'd ended up. And so, after making sure that he was as comfortable as possible, they made their way towards the door and opened it. Donna's eyes widened immediately at the sight.

Martha gave her a curious, if not a little worried, look. "Donna? Do you know this place?"

Donna nodded slowly. For some reason there was a bizarre sensation in her eyes. "This… This the Bad Wolf Bay." Clearly sensing the need for a clarification she went on. "This is the only place where he feels close to… _her_. The only place where he can heal."

* * *

Much later that night John sat in Mary's hospital room, guading her well deserved rest while staring at their newborn baby girl. Some cookies from Mrs. Hudson were still present on the nightstand, along with flowers from Greg and Molly. Sherlock was snoring softly on a very much uncomfortable chair nearby the room's door. The detective was bound to earn himself a sore neck and a even more pained back but John didn't have the heart to wake him. Not when he was sure that it was ages from when the madman last rested.

It felt incredibly right, all of it. Their whole bizarre, impossible family was right there in that room with him. It shouldn't be possible. He still couldn't quite wrap his head around it. If it wasn't for the Doctor…

John sighed contentedly, brushing his daughter's cheek with one finger. She responded with a happy, sleepy sound that would've melted even the stoniest of hearts. "This has been quite an adventure, love", he whispered. "I think that I've just met the most bizarre man in the universe. And one day… One day I'm going to find him so I can get all the answers that I need. Because I want to be able to tell you the story properly when you're old enough to hear it. Which, by the way, won't happen until you're at least eighteen." He pulled her closer. The baby was almost fast asleep already. "And that case, Willow Rose Watson, is going to be 'The Adventure With the Doctor and the Beast'." He lifted his gaze towards the night sky, focusing on the stars that seemed to shine oddly brightly. "It's about a man who saved my life but didn't even tell me his name."

* * *

Time passed by. One season changed to another. Deep wounds turned into scars. And on a atypically sunny Thursday morning a swooshing sound could be heard in London. Such that hadn't been heard anywhere in the universe for months.

The Doctor grinned widely as he stepped out and inhaled deeply. He was very thrilled to discover that the gesture didn't bring him unbearable pain anymore. "Good old London!" he sighed happily. He was pleased that the TARDIS had decided to take him to a rooftop because it gave him a proper chance to look around. To see all the comfortingly familiar buildings, the steady stream of life spreading below. His eyes softened and for a few stolen moments they didn't seem a thousand years old. "Still in one piece and vibrant as ever."

Donna was smiling as well while emerging and taking a stand beside him. "Someone looks happy to be back." She gave him a stern, warning look. "But don't get too excited, Spaceman. Just a little while ago you had a gaping hole in your chest, remember?"

The Doctor groaned. But in full honesty he didn't seem very irritated. "You've spent too much time with Martha."

"And whose fault is that?"

The Doctor was about to start directing the conversation elsehwere until he sensed that they were no longer alone. He tensed up a little and turned around slowly. To meet someone he really hadn't expected to ever see again. "How did you find me?"

"A friend helped." John Watson had a stern look on his face. The man was most definitely on his soldier mode. "I know that I have no right to ask you anything, after what you did for me. But… It's been seven months. And I need to know." The man took a single step forward. "Who is Rose? And how can I still be alive? And…" The former army medic's jawline tightened to what looked like a painful extend. "How much… did me keeping my life cost? What kind of a paradox did you saving my life create?"

* * *

TBC, for an epilogue

* * *

A/N: Is this possible? Is everyone really going to live until the end? Am I REALLY growing this soft?

We've got only an epilogue left, folks! I still can't believe that this story's coming to an end. (sniffles)

Sooo… Thoughts? Comments? It'd be INCREDIBLY awesome to hear from you.

I REALLY have to head to bed now. But, who knows. Maybe I'll see ya all at the conclusion…?

Take care!

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**Guest**: I'm taking that as a MASSIVE compliment! (BEAMS) I really hope that what's to come will please you as much.

Colossal thank yous for the review!


	12. Epilogue

A/N: I seriously can't believe this! It's time to post the very last chapter for this story. BUT, before getting to that…

THANK YOU, so very much, for your reviews and support! They do mean a lot, you know? (HUGS)

Awkay, because final chapters always have me a bit nervous… Let's go! I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

* * *

Epilogue

* * *

Time is a strange thing, Dr. John Watson mused as the TARDIS once again hummed to a stop. Even though he'd been traveling through it with his new friends for almost a full year, even if they had the chance to stop by at almost any spot of the history and future, they had no real control over it. Time was always running out, running away, as unpredictable as a river.

And now it was time to go back home.

John turned towards the Doctor and Donna. He gave them both a long look, memorizing. "Thank you, for everything." And he meant it from the bottom of his heart. Because he really needed this. He'd been basically brought back from the dead. He was supposed to die yet here he was, very much alive and breathing. He'd needed to see the universe to find his place in it once more.

The Doctor nodded. Something told him that the Time Lord understood perfectly. "Now go home. Your family is waiting."

John swallowed hard, his hand pausing on the TARDIS' door handle. He couldn't bring himself to look at the other two. "Do you…" He cleared his throat. "Are you sure that there were no… repercussions?" There'd been no paradoxes. No lives had been lost as a price for his. They'd made sure of that, hadn't they?

The Doctor sighed. "You know that it isn't that simple." The time traveler's voice was oddly soft, full of understanding. "Just… You've been given extra years. Maybe even decades. Make the most of them, alright?"

John nodded, his posture and face full of determination. "I will." And it was the second most important promise he'd ever given in his life. Then, with a one last military salute to his new friends, he walked out of the TARDIS.

Only to find Sherlock waiting right outside.

John blinked once, twice. And for some reason he had to hold back the urge to run to his friend and fold him into a hug. "Sherlock? How… could you possibly know…?" How long had he been gone, anyway? How had Sherlock known that he'd be right here, right now?

Was the detective… smiling? Almost. "Take a look around you, John. Surely even you can figure it out."

John did. And instantly a wide smile appeared to his face. Pleasant warmth rushed all the way through him, from his fingertips to the tips of his toes.

They were right outside 221 Baker Street.

Sherlock had to have a lot of questions. Even if it had been only hours, like the Doctor promised, John knew that he'd been changed by the time he'd really been away. Inside and out. But for once the detective refrained from voicing his observations. Instead there was only one question. The important one. "Tea?"

John could feel his eyes twinkling. They were both smiling. "A brilliant idea!" he praised.

Sherlock sniffed. The man was already on his way towards the door, not looking back because the man knew that he'd follow. He always did. "Of course it is. Kindly stop stating the obvious."

* * *

Mary, who just lay down for a well deserved nap after winning a two hour battle of wills to convince Willow into falling asleep, sighed happily when the bed dipped. She didn't even open her eyes, instead leaned eagerly against the kiss placed to her forehead. "It's been seven hours. What took you so long?" she murmured. John's familiar scent filled her mind, making her feel warm and comfortable. "Did you at least remember the milk?"

John chuckled. It sounded oddly hoarse. "Yes, I remembered the milk."

Mary frowned and opened her eyes halfway. They widened instantly. "What…?"

John looked absolutely exhausted and there was something… different on his face. Traces of secrets that she couldn't even begin to guess. And he had a stubble. He'd only been gone for a little over seven hours and he had a mighty stubble.

John shook his head. His arms were almost pleading when they wrapped around her. His body was shifted so that he had a clear visual to Willow, who was sleeping in a crib next to their bed. "Not tonight, Mary", he sighed. He looked away, even tensed up a little. "I… made a promise to not talk about some things. And the rest is… a bit complicated."

Mary nodded slowly. They were both happy to lose themselves into a long, hungry kiss. It was like they'd been without for years. "Alright, then", she agreed against his lips. She tightened her hold of him although she wasn't exactly sure why. "Later."

* * *

The Doctor took a deep breath, his hand going subconsciously to the scar that he'd carry on his chest for as long as he'd be in this form. It was over, now. It took far longer than he expected and it ended in none of the ways he'd anticipated but it did end. And everybody lived.

Not bad at all.

"Oi, Spaceman." Donna sounded excited. "You promised to show me a place where I can sit back and relax. So, are we going or not?"

The Doctor just had to smile at his friend's enthusiasm. "The TARDIS should be ready in a minute."

Donna walked in just in time to see him putting away something that he hadn't laid his eyes on while John was still traveling with them. He just couldn't bring himself to show it to the former soldier. Instantly her expression turned a little more serious. "It's still the same, then?" she guessed.

He nodded slowly, focusing on the page he'd torn from a newspaper. It was one of the small tricks of fate that led them to this entire chaos. "Still the same", he confirmed. And it felt incredibly chilling to see the name that now had a solid face in his mind.

It was an obituary. But it wasn't that of John Hamish Watson. Instead the name on top was William Sherlock Scott Holmes.

Because as it turned out in a different reality one couldn't exist without the other. The bullet claimed John's life. And Sherlock's. Because the cases weren't enough. On the one year anniversary of John's death Sherlock was found from 221B Baker Street, dead of a drug overdose. According to the text the detective was sitting on John's armchair.

"Do you think we managed to change it?" Donna asked quietly.

The Doctor looked at the obituary for a while. As though expecting it to reveal something ground breaking or horrifying. Or to finally change, perhaps. He then unleashed a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "Who knows. Fate is a fickle thing." With a swift, almost eager motion he put the page to a box and locked it. Sealing the secret for what he hoped to be forever. He then breathed in a little more easily and offered her his arm. "So… Shall we?"

Donna grinned and accepted it. Her eyes sparkled. "To Planet Midnight."

Sometimes ignorance is a bliss. Because they walked away just five short minutes before the obituary finally began to change. The heartbroken words. The dates. And most importantly the lost beloved's name.

'_Mary Elizabeth Watson_'

* * *

**_End._**

* * *

A/N: That so called ending twist is something I've been planning on from the very start! (chuckles) So, John and Sherlock will both most likely live. But what about Mary? Will her death be a matter of days, weeks, months, years or decades? We can only wonder.

So… The story is officially over. THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for sticking around through all of this! Despite the update gaps and all. It's been a fantastic ride to me and I hope that you've had a good time as well! (HUGS)

It's time to tune out, for now. Once again, thank you! Who knows, maybe we'll cross paths again. Take care!

And now, ALLONS-Y!


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